Return of Emerald
by Bleu Tsuki
Summary: AU. Slytherin!Harry. When the BWL is discovered missing, no one thinks twice when Hasan Castell appears at Hogwarts. Abandoned at a muggle orphanage, Harry grows up with a love of magic- in books that is- and thinks sorcery is all in his dreams. He calls himself Hasan to separate his dreams from reality, and is adopted and raised by a man who should be dead. Harry/Luna
1. Wild Eyes

**Summary: **When the Boy-Who-Lived is missing, no one thinks twice when Hasan Castell appears at Hogwarts. Abandoned at a muggle orphanage, Harry grows up with a love of magic- in books that is- and thinks sorcery is all in his dreams. He calls himself Hasan to separate his dreams from reality, runs away when someone wants to adopt him, only to be tracked down and raised by a man who should be dead. AU. Slytherin!Harry.

**Disclaimer:** Jo owns all! I am but a humble author soaking up her glorious rays! Except for a few of my OC's: Mr. Ted, Mrs. Haydn, and Altair Castell.

**Author's Note:** I've started this story on a muse. Something between MPD and an alias, and somewhat related to high-functioning autism like Asperger's. I am no expert on this, (except that I've been diagnosed with Asperger's) but basically, Harry is extremely intelligent for his age, and will act more on his thoughts than his feelings.

Also: I pronounce **Hasan** like "Hay-sahn" or "Hei-san" for you anime lovers! (**DTB**) But really, anyway you like it is fine. "Hah-sin" is also cool like assassin!

**Enjoy!**

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**Return of Emerald**

**Chapter 1: Wild Eyes**

He had wild eyes. A simmering, emerald green that practically glowed with power and danced with knowledge. He had a handsome face too, with pale skin, pink lips, and gently arched eyebrows. The lady at the orphanage called him 'ethereal,' but Harry knew better. Fragility was only an appearance. He learned early on that survival demanded more than a brain. The Dursley's hadn't particularly concerned themselves with his intelligence. No, he had to have something more than his wits about him if he were to survive there, and thus, he perfected the wonderfully useful art of deception.

Harry lifted himself off of the thinning lawn, brushing dried grass from his second-hand jeans as he did so, before starting the short journey back to Penelope's House, the orphanage the Dursley's had abandoned him in when he was four. Mrs. Haydn, the manager of the orphanage, would be cross with Harry should he come any later to dinner, and yet be decidedly irritated should he come any sooner. Her reasoning was that Harry scared away potential parents if he hung around the orphanage. People typically wanted young children, and they'd feel pressured to adopt Harry if he were present. Harry wouldn't want to be taken out of guilt, would he?

And so, Harry was stuck outside for the most part of the day, minus meals and when he went to bed. Though her pitiful justification hardly convinced Harry, even he could not deny the fact that freaky things happened around him. Like garden snakes hanging around the back door, or having the entire hall suddenly clean when it was his turn to scrub it, or summoning things so that he'd have them right beside him without even knowing how they got there. Mrs. Haydn didn't say that was the reason she wanted him out, but she needn't have. Harry knew- everyone knew.

But why should he deny it? As long as he could control it. Why pretend things didn't happen when they did?...at least in his imagination. Harry had a rather vivid imagination; at least, that's what Mrs. Haydn insisted. Sometimes he thought he could see owls flying, despite it being the middle of the night, and sometimes he saw owl breeds whose natural habitats were nowhere near London. When he told Mrs. Haydn, she said he simply dreamed of owls, and so, everything else that was wonderful in the world, that only he could see or believe, well, those were dreams too.

Harry had previously been doing some quality daydreaming on Red Mill's Hill, smiling at the clouds that sifted past like soulless specters keeping watch. He often came to the hill when Mrs. Haydn just couldn't take it anymore and demand he get some fresh air for his own health- which was every day. Harry slipped his hands into his sweatshirt pocket- a gray hand-me-down ten years in the lost and found bin- and shivered as a gust of cool November air hit him through his clothes. It was only ten minutes until he reached the house.

"Wonder if she's making something hot." Harry wondered to himself, pushing open the old crooked door. The building didn't have a competent heater, but it was still warmer than the outside. He basked in the warmth, taking his hands from his pockets because he knew that it made the other kids nervous if he had something hidden in there. Kids could be really thick sometimes. Harry owned nothing to hide. Further into the room, Mrs. Haydn was busying herself with the dinner preparations by setting the table for twenty-seven little mouths. At the sound of the door opening, she looked up, graying hair falling into her eyes, to find Harry standing in the doorway. For once, her heart didn't fall when it was Harry - she actually had something to say to the boy.

"Well come in, Harry, don't just stand there! You could help me with the bowls too, here, take a stack." Her voice was crackly from years of cigarette smoking, although she quit a while back because her doctor was a nag. Yet, she was sixty something, and fifty something years of smoking did not leave your voice in peace even after you quit.

Registering her almost pleasant tone of voice, Harry gingerly approached the table before doing as bid, drawing out an almost satisfactory grunt from his supervisor. Mrs. Haydn wasn't a disagreeable person _really_, but something about that 'Potter boy' threw her for a loop. He seemed so _odd_- like he belonged in a completely different world- and she got the oddest sensation of goose bumps when around him. She had told herself she was being silly before, but four years after receiving the poor kid from his aunt and uncle, and she was wholly convinced something was _wrong_ with the boy.

For one, he didn't fit in. The other kids would listen to him like they would an adult- with a smidgen of respect that amounted to nothing come another five minutes. He didn't play with the others, preferring to scamper off to god-knows-where when she demanded he get up from his book and play. And that was another thing: the books! Penelope's House was just down the road from the nearest library, and Harry frequented the place often. Which didn't alarm Mrs. Haydn too badly, for she knew Harry needed books to stimulate his young mind.

No, what bothered her most was the _ability_ at which he read. Last week had been The Count of Monte Cristo, this week, it was The Lord of the Rings. The child was eight. Eight for goodness' sake! Mrs. Haydn didn't know what to make of it. It seemed impossible for him to understand everything, but he answered every question she threw at him- in an attempt to get him to realize how little he truly did understand- and he answered them, even going insofar as to explain intricate character personalities. Peeling away layer after layer of appearance versus internal personalities versus conception. If anything, it only proved to show Mr. Haydn how little _she _understood Harry...and classic literature. She chalked it up to his being a child prodigy- or having some high functioning autism of sorts, but still, even with that, something wasn't quite right.

"Mrs. Haydn? Mrs. Haydn?" Harry asked politely, hesitating whether he should tap her or not. She had been unresponsive for a few minutes, and Harry had half a mind to call the police.

"Yes, Mr. Potter? What is it?"

"The table's ready. Should I go and fetch the kids?" His language was much advanced too, Mrs. Haydn noted, very formal, and he seemed to separate himself from the other kids too by referring to them in such an apathetic manner.

"In a minute, Harry. I've got to tell you something." She took a deep breath, wondering rapidly why it was that she was so nervous. He was a kid after all, he couldn't detect her excitement.

"What?" Harry asked her with an innocently open face. But being around him for so long, Mrs. Haydn was able to pick up the slight narrowing of his emerald eyes.

"There was a man who came today. He wants to adopt you!" she squealed happily.

Harry let his face go blank. No emotion. No emotion. _Someone wanted him. There was hope._ _He wasn't forgotten._ No emotion. No emotion! "Um, Harry?" She knew that look and her eyes widened in fear. "Harry?"

And just like that, the moment was gone. She relaxed as the world fell back on its axis. But just for a moment, well, silly as she was, she thought she felt a breeze. How silly! There was no wind in here!

"I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Haydn. You were saying?"

"Well, yes. I was saying that someone wants to adopt you."

"Me?" Harry gasped, not even having to fabricate his astonishment. "Me?"

"Yes, _you_ Harry." Mrs. Haydn smiled, and she thought she saw Harry quirk a lip up. That was good: if the boy wanted to be adopted too, then things would go so much smoother...

However, Harry's thoughts were far from coinciding with her conclusions. Happy? Why should he be happy? At first, maybe. But then he took a step back to analyze it, and suddenly, it made sense. Mrs. Haydn wanted to be rid of him. She wanted it so bad she probably recommended him to every visitor who came. His eyes widened fractionally as he was hit with another epiphany: He was being forced on him. The man didn't really want him, and once Mrs. Haydn was gone and rid of him, his new guardian would kick him out also, demanding a nicer child. One without so many issues...Harry almost sniffled at this thought, but managed to keep his face schooled into a blank mask of innocence. Practice made perfect, did it not? Mrs. Haydn seemed to buy the act, for she visibly relaxed, her wrinkles ceasing to crease quite so much on her forehead, and her shoulders sagging down. Yes, this way it would be easier. If she thought he wanted to go, she wouldn't suspect a thing when he made a run for it. With his plan firmly in place, he could only now hope that dinner would be as rewarding.

.oOo.

The next morning found Harry Potter wide-eyed and beaming at his soon to be ex-supervisor. All the younger kids were still asleep and the older kids were already playing outside.

"Mrs. Haydn, I'm going to miss you. I appreciate your caring for me." Harry told her candidly, letting warmth flow through his words. "But...could I have some time to say good-bye? Take back the Lord of the Rings book and say bye to Mr. Ted, the librarian?" His eyes were docile now. A soft, tame sage that melted Mrs. Haydn's heart. How could she deny him?

"Alright..." she agreed with some reluctant, "but the man's coming in an hour, and something tells me he'll be punctual. So be back by noon, got it?"

Harry nodded eagerly, booked tucked safely under his arm, and ready to leave this isolated world for good.

"I promise, Mrs. Haydn." he said, but smirked on his way out. How the lady could be so blind was beyond him! Honestly, spending some quality time with the librarian? Who bought that crazy nonsense?

Harry held the book tighter in his hands; it was "The Return of the King" where Aragorn had taken back his rightful place, amazing everyone as he had kept himself hidden under numerous alibis for the majority of his existence. He was known as so many things, but Harry always thought of him as just Strider. Just that guy in the room that no one ever thought to pay two thoughts to... He was Harry's idol.

The book he held was worn from countless readings, a hard-back with a scratched off cover and imprinted title that was losing its ink. But Harry didn't mind one bit. Looks could be deceiving, but the content of the book didn't change, much like Strider, and much like Harry. He supposed that's why he was so keen to protect what little he was. As much as he liked to indulge himself with childish fantasies of wielding magic staffs and defeating evil dark lords, Harry knew he just wanted to save himself from more hurt. Pretend to be someone you're not, and no one can hurt you. Not the real you. So Harry had spent the last two years molding his outward appearance to fit that of a polite and docile little boy. But inside, he was a secret king. The idea of having an alias sprouted much around the time of his fascination of magic stories. If he were to be a wizard, a great Light wizard like Gandalf, or a Dark Lord like Sauron, what would he be called? And if he were so called that, what would he look like?

Harry knew it was only a fantasy, juvenile at best, but he let himself play in it like one would a sandbox. The sand always shifted. His mental playground was alive.

Approaching a small trickling stream, a bit further down from Red Mill's Hill, Harry sat down to rest, legs folded against his chest as he gazed at the water running over the large smooth pebbles.

If he were a wizard...if he could be anyone he wanted to be, far away from Penelope's House, and far away from ignorance and isolation...Who would he _be _on an adventure? He had thought about this before. Many times actually, ever since he determined he was different. He looked at his distorted reflection in the bubbling stream and smiled.

"Hasan." he said to himself, then giggled. It sounded so unique, as it should be, for he made it up with the garden snakes one day. They enjoyed the sibilant sound and so did he. He _wanted_ it to be his, and he knew it was him, but...it was different. "_Hasssan._" he whispered possessively, falling into the tongue of the snakes. The 's' lingered on his tongue. "_Hassssan_."

The name just seemed right for him- even if it was just a mask to use inside his own mind. He giggled and looked at the water again, only to open his mouth in mute horror.

A boy, his age, with medium-length brown hair and jaded green eyes, so dull it scared him, gaped at him through the water.

_That can't be me- can it? _he thought panicked. Harry lifted a hand to his face, and the reflection did much the same. Oh, for the love of life! But it _was_ him. _Change me back! Change me back! _He shouted over and over in his mind, before he felt a familiar tingling through his body. When he cracked open his eyes again, it was only he who sat there, alone next to the stream.

Relieved, but now extremely curious, Harry wondered if he could do it again. He tapped into this strange power once more, squeezed his eyes really tight, and opened them to find that peculiar image of that boy that was him.

Harry knew he was different- ever since he woke up on the roof with no recollection of how he got there- but he remembered a full moon. Beautiful, bright, and enchanting. No matter how it was that he got there the view had been worth it. But eight years of continued bouts of this-this magic, and he began to suspect something wasn't right. He just couldn't be normal, could he? He distanced himself from the kids, talking with Mrs. Haydn only when necessary. He wasn't sure why. He just did.

Harry picked up the book left fallen by his side. Oh, if only it were true. If only he really did have magic. But Harry knew better than that- he knew he had some sort of medical condition of hallucinations- Mrs. Haydn said so- and knew he was just imagining things... But that was his favorite thing to do. Dreaming. And now, with this new discovery, he could truly be just Hasan the wizard, the secret king among kings, and never have to return to orphan Harry again.

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**A/N: **So how was my first chapter? If you enjoyed it, then please review!

**Thank you,**

**Bleu Tsuki**


	2. The Leaky Cauldron

**A/N- **Harry knows that he's a wizard on some level, but it's too good for him to even believe. He's very smart and doesn't want to get hurt at all, so he created the name 'Hasan' to separate what he believes is a dream come true, and reality, should his dream end one day. Since it is entirely Harry's choice in what he believes exists and does not, he sometimes switches between the two, because that is how he thinks of himself. Hopefully you guys can keep track of two names, right?

**Disclaimer-** Everything recognizable belongs to JKR! Except for my OC's Mr. Ted, Mrs. Haydn, and Altair Castell.

:Parseltongue:

"Speech"

**Enjoy!**

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**Return of Emerald**

**Chapter 2: The Leaky Cauldron**

Bent by the stream with his book, Hasan pondered where he should go from here. The orphanage wasn't _too_ far off from 'civilization' though in itself, it was pretty isolated. Hasan knew that his best chance of survival would probably be blending in and finding a small job in London. It wasn't far, he surmised, for Mrs. Haydn went to London nearly every other Saturday and came back by dinner time. With that in mind, Hasan began his own adventure, his book clasped between his fingers.

He walked past the little farmer's market, down the road, across the bridge, and further until he hit actual asphalt. By this time, however, Hasan was exhausted. He seriously underestimated just how far off the beaten path the orphanage was! On the bright side, the weather was nicer today,...yet he was in desperate need of a tissue and possibly a cup of hot chocolate. But he had to go on! Looking about him, he realized he was in a small neighborhood, and was happy he had made it so far as civilized society. A few more minutes of walking and he found himself on the edges of a small shopping street. Not quite London, but he was sure he was close. Following his gut, Hasan continued on his path, when he saw the most peculiar sight: a man with an owl. The man wore black robes, like a dress, and he was reading a letter on, hang on, a scroll of parchment? Hasan rubbed at his eyes. Heaven knew his eyesight was terrible- he was probably hallucinating again. Stopped by a red light, Hasan turned to a woman beside him and asked which way to London. She nearly laughed in delight.

"Oh, just past this street here and you'll be in the very heart of it, dear."

The woman had a sweet face, slightly frizzled red hair, and a baggy, moss green peacoat. Hasan thanked the lady, and was just about to step into the street when she grabbed his arm. Oh, this was not supposed to happen.

"Where are your parents, dear?" the woman asked, face drawn in concern.

Well, not like it was any of her business.

"Oh, just down the street Misses."

"Mrs. Weasley." she supplied kindly, letting go of his arm. Hasan managed to smile back.

"Well, thank you, Mrs. Weasley." And he scampered off before she could even process he was lying.

"Oh, the poor kid." Molly thought to herself. "Probably some runaway..."

Hasan, meanwhile, was leaping with joy. He had made it! He was in London! So it was _only_ half past five, and he _had_ set out at eleven, but a victory was a victory, was it not? He wondered if the man Mrs. Haydn mentioned, had already come to the orphanage. Was the man very disappointed? He shouldn't be. After all, there were twenty-six other wonderful kids to choose from- most of whom were abandoned at birth. Who would willingly want Harry-no- Hasan. Especially if he learned of Hasan's issues.

Sighing, he tore his eyes away from the large clock tower to focus on his environment. People were bustling about in all sorts of styles, holding briefcases, handbags, suitcases, dog leashes. It seemed everyone was going somewhere, and no one paid any mind to Hasan. Could this day get any better?

He picked up the pace, wondering if a kind baker would throw him some scraps or if he'd just starve the first night. This idea didn't bother him too much- for the people in his book starved relatively often- but reality was a whole other matter. He needed food, or so help him, he was going to die from something as ordinary as starvation. And wouldn't that just be a sad adventure.

His first attempt at soliciting food was a complete and utter failure. The baker screeched for him to get out or he'd call the cops. His second attempt was much the same...Must he? Hasan looked at his worn book with detached fondness, and figured it was for the best. Gathering his courage, he sold his treasure to a used book store for ten pounds. Half of which, Harry was sure he only got because the shop owner took pity on him. But money was money, and Hasan continued merrily on his way until he came to a pub with delicious smells wafting from the windows. He noticed that none of the other passerby's so much as glanced at the pub. But surely they could smell those heavenly scents! Figuring hunger made him sensitive to food, he didn't think too much of it and glanced upwards.

The Leaky Cauldron.

What a funny name for a pub! Hasan thought, then pushed open the door, money clutched firmly in his little hand, to be met with thunderous chatter. He took a step back, and the noise muted, a step forward, and he could hear the chinking glasses and lively conversation as clear as day. It was like his appearance. Magic! A warmth spread over him as he acknowledged that this was where he belonged. Plus, there was heating in here, and that certainly helped a body get warm!

"Hey there, kid." a tall man with an apron smiled down at him. "Looking for your parents?"

Hasan began to panic though the waiter could only detect his deepening breaths.

"Uh, no, no sir." Hasan mumbled out, ready to slide past him.

"No?" the employee asked, side stepping Hasan's escape route. Damn! Hasan was forced to look up at him to keep his cute little boy cover. "Are they somewhere else perhaps? I could help you look?"

"They're dead." Hasan said flatly, really not in the mood to play the game anymore. He was sooo hungry. He couldn't even think straight.

The man in front of him apparently couldn't either. Was this kid lying? He searched his jaded orbs but found nothing but weariness. Perhaps he just got into a fight and ran away? Yes, that was a much better alternative.

"Y-you hungry, kid?" he finally asked, attempting to stall him long enough to contact his parents and get them over here.

"No, just let me-"

And then his stomach released a loud growl.

"Well, come on then, out of the doorway." the waiter said briskly. He grabbed Hasan's hand despite the fact it was balled in a fist, and led him quickly to the bar. "I'm Marcus, by the way." he said as they walked. Hasan found himself not caring.

Honestly! He had money! He could just buy a loaf of bread and be done with it, forget about the questions that would arise. But...the lure of food did sound good. He decided to play nice for just a bit longer.

"Hasan."

"Hasan? That's...nice. Very nice." Marcus nodded slowly, then called over the bar, "Tom!"

In no time, an older man with a striped black and white apron came peering over the ledge.

"What is it Marcus? Oh! I see you have a friend here." He used light tones, but his arched eyebrow told another story.

"He needs to eat." Marcus said, and the man nodded cryptically like they had exchanged a million words with those four.

"Bring him to the back." Tom said, and flew off to get what Hasan hoped was his food. Marcus led Hasan to the back room as instructed, taking in his shabby appearance with a frown: withering sweatshirt, ripped jeans. He looked homeless but for his clean brown hair and clear face.

"This is where the employees eat." Marcus explained, indicating that Hasan take a seat on the bench while he sat across. "Tom's the owner. He's fixing you a plate."

Hasan nodded, jaded eyes taking in everything around him. The floor, walls, and ceiling were worn wood, and the light overhead was a tiny iron chandelier. And, wait a minute, was it _floating_? Hasan rubbed his eyes, and blinked. _I must be dreaming_, he thought.

"So...where do you live?" Marcus asked uneasily, praying for Tom's swift arrival.

Hasan folded his hands in his lap and looked somewhere to Marcus' left.

"I don't live _there_ anymore."

Ah! So the boy _had_ gotten into a fight, maybe with his parents? Marcus was so relieved he nearly sighed in delight.

"Look, kid, you can tell me. It's okay, I promise they won't be mad at you, that is, assuming you didn't do-"

"I didn't _do_ anything!" Hasan protested. "I just don't live there anymore."

He could hear how bratty he sounded, but it was like someone else was speaking. Besides this man deserved it. What part of: _My parents are dead and I don't live anywhere_, did this man not understand?

"Ah, I see." Though he clearly didn't. "Where is _there_? It could help us to locate your parents."

_'I told you!'_ Hasan wanted to shout, but instead it came out in a deadly whisper: "They aren't here. They died."

Before Marcus could protest that he shouldn't joke about things like that, Tom came in with a plate of fish and chips, and a tall glass of water.

"How you making out?" Tom asked Marcus, taking a seat beside his employee.

Marcus gave a histrionically audible sigh.

"He keeps saying his parents are dead." Marcus said, throwing his hands in the air.

"Because they are." Hasan mumbled. "Why would I lie about that?"

"Because you clearly ran away from somewhere!" Marcus shouted.

"Hey! Hey!" Tom yelled. "Everybody, just! Marcus, shhh. We'll get to the bottom of this." Turning back to Hasan he gave a tired, fatherly smile.

"What's your name, kid? How old are you?"

Hasan tried to determine if there was an ulterior motive, but wasn't as pro as Gandalf. He ended up with the truth, or at least, his truth.

"Hasan. I'm eight."

"Ah, Hasan. Hasan what?" Tom pried. Hasan shrugged. Gosh! They hadn't given him time to construct a surname! What did they think he was? A name generator? Tom seemed to understand that Hasan was unwilling to divulge such information because he quickly moved on.

"Alright, Hasan. Marcus here seems to believe you ran away from home. Did you?"

Home? Was Penelope's House considered a home? Technically a house was a home, unless you were one of those sentimental people that believed a home was so much better. The orphanage was a hole where they shoved freaks without parents. Was that considered a home? Perhaps he should have asked himself: did he feel at home there?

Uh! The thinking was giving him a headache.

"I ran." Hasan finally said in an even tone. That was fairly obvious.

The two adults shared a look as Hasan began to devour his meal. It was actually quite tasty.

"Slow down, you'll get sick," Marcus chided concernedly, "You'd think you haven't eaten in-" he stopped himself, finally seeing the error in his ways. He looked to Tom for support, but the older man just raised an eyebrow. You dug your own grave.

"I haven't eaten since breakfast." Hasan told them, and they instantly relaxed. That wasn't so bad, right? It wasn't like they had a full blown street rat on their hands. Plus, the kid seemed nice enough, polite enough anyway.

"Hasan...look at me." Tom asked softly from across the table. The tone was so low and gentle that Hasan complied without much thought. "I'm willing to believe you." he said firmly, "Now do you have anywhere to stay?"

Hasan shook his head. They weren't possibly-? Could they-? His heart fluttered with hope. This was an inn after all!

"You can stay here. For **one** night!" Tom announced, his strictness giving way with a warm smile. He didn't exactly condone running away from home, but there wasn't much else he could do. If the kid wouldn't talk, assuming he was lying, then there wasn't anything he could do that wouldn't have him running to the hills- or worse- Knockturn Alley. Yes, best to keep him safe at the inn and hope his parents followed him.

"Thank you." Hasan whispered, green eyes filling with tears. He was just a harmless little runway... The idiots. Once Hasan was finished eating his fill, which included a hot chocolate with whipped cream as dessert, Marcus led him upstairs to his room at the far end of the hallway.

"This is where you'll stay the night. Just touch the knob and it'll unlock for you."

Seemingly satisfied, Marcus walked away; Hasan touched it and it opened.

Magic.

Giddy with joy, Hasan entered the little room, shut the door, and fell fast asleep on the bed. He couldn't help himself, it was so incredibly soft, that he felt his eyelids shutting as he touched it.

He only wished that his dream wouldn't end when he woke up.

.oOo.

Down the hall, Marcus was shaking his head at Tom, wondering how on earth they were going to pull this off.

"Hopefully his parents will come in the morning." Marcus murmured. Tom, however, stayed silent. "You don't- You don't actually think-?"

"Marcus, I'm not sure. He seems genuine enough, and he is only eight. I'm prepared to take his word for it."

"And if he is, by some miraculous stretch of the imagination, telling the truth?"

Tom sighed, "Then we'll just have to see what we can do. Won't we?"

They each cheered to that, butterbeer overflowing in large mugs, as the last customers emptied out. Tom plunged the pub into total darkness with a wave of his wand, and Marcus began to bolt up the door, when a lone figure seemed to materialize right outside of it.

"It's closing time." Marcus called out, but opened the door anyway.

"What is it?" Tom asked, turning from his ascent up the stairs.

"I'm terribly sorry, Tom." the man outside said, taking down his hood, "But I seem to have lost my son."

_Why that little urchin!_ Marcus thought. He turned to the supposed father and gave a warm smile, then began to show him upstairs.

"The poor fellow's asleep, Marcus. We can't just-"

"Oh, no matter," the man said in a pleasant baritone. "I can simply apparate us back home."

Marcus nodded happily. He _knew_ that boy had been lying! Tom, however, didn't seem so sure. The man in front of them was tall, dressed in a heavy black cloak, with thick brown hair that fell just past his shoulders. His eyes were a pale blue, and his eyebrows were heavy on top of them. Despite his informal shout of 'Tom,' Tom was positive he had never seen this man before in his life. Granted, the Leaky Cauldron was extremely busy and there was a chance he hadn't met someone before, but...

"Well right this way Mister!" Marcus was saying.

Tom just shook his head. It was getting late; he was tired. He allowed Marcus to show the man upstairs to Hasan's room, while Tom continued on to his own chambers above his business.

"So what did he do?" Marcus asked conversationally.

"Do?" the man repeated absently.

"Yeah, to run away like that."

The man paused.

"I'm not sure."

They had reached the boy's door by now, and Marcus was mumbling the incantation to allow him in.

"He said you were dead, you know. You and your wife! I couldn't believe it!" Marcus continued, getting carried away by his own triumph.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, I'd give 'im a talking if I were you."

A grim smile came over the man's face.

"Indeed."

The father entered the room, while Marcus left to give them privacy. The bedroom was dark, nearly pitch black but for the lone candle flickering in the bathroom.

"What a small body to contain so much magic." he whispered, approaching the bed.

The boy was peaceful looking while asleep, brown hair tangled around his shoulders and the gentle rise and fall of his little chest.

The man had been tracing his trail for a while now: since noon to be exact, when the little cretin decided to make a break for it. You see, this man was highly sensitive to magic ever since he had ingested some fairly dark potions that didn't react well in his system. His new ability didn't bother him much, but it certainly gave him a shock when a highly powerful source was radiating from a barely populated town near London. He made an investigation of it, finally reaching a little known orphanage called Penelope's House.

How the woman thought kids could even be found, let alone adopted, was beyond him. But he was thankful for it nonetheless, for the boy hadn't been adopted yet. At first, he hadn't known what or who was radiating the powerful magical aura, but after asking a few strategic questions, he had a pretty good idea.

Only one child was known to be...strange. Only one child that was set apart from the whole and treated with respect despite the lack of any reason. It was his aura. The man told Mrs. Haydn he would very much like to meet this little boy, and the woman practically cried with happiness. "Noon, then?" she had asked, and he had nodded. And now, here he was, after blindly following his more bothersome-than-useful power, kneeling at the bedside of a child he didn't know. But if he trusted anything in the world, it was his gut.

He reached out to touch the boy's arm, and with a faint pop, they both vanished into the night.

* * *

.oOo.

* * *

Altair Castell was a quiet man of forty something years, who kept mostly to himself at the Castell Estate, located within some unplottable territory in France. He was quiet for two reasons: 1) He was not on speaking terms with his family and wanted no part in the war. 2) He was supposed to be dead.

The first was fairly easy to explain. Altair was the last of the British branch of Castell's, meaning that he was distantly related to the House of Black. And with this came the Malfoy's, the Lestrange's, and the rest of the bloody Dark Lord's escort. Which simply begged the question: why wasn't he with them?

The second point answers this. In the time of the Dark Lord's reign, Altair had been hunted down as mercilessly as Slughorn, except that he had family that pressured him as well. He had a knack for what some like to call 'getting into trouble' and often found his nose where it didn't belong.

This being said, he was the ideal spy, stealthy, amiable, easy-going, but very smart. Well, mostly. While pursued by the Dark Lord, he was running out of options. He had to get away, and well, desperate times _did_ call for desperate measures, and so- in his desperation- he decided to down the closest few potions on Snape's desk. (Snape had his own mastermind space at Riddle Manor.) Back then, Severus was fighting for the Dark Lord's favor, much like everybody else- and he did so with inventions, whether it was spells or potions. It just so happened that the particular few he chose to ingest did _not_ kill him, but instead, gave him a little known condition Snape decided to creatively call: "Magical Sight." It was a nuisance to be honest, but he had his out, and who was he to complain?

Thus, the next few years were spent in hiding, and while hiding, Altair began to invest in defensive training to prepare for the inevitable. His instructors were always obliviated afterwards, but he was a patient man, and eventually built up a repertoire of different battle styles.

When news of the Dark Lord's demise reached Altair's ears, he had already achieved a level of expertise in martial arts, as well as sword fighting, your basic hand-to-hand, and of course, spells both dark and light.

But he wasn't entirely cut off from the world. Due to his condition, he needed to take a potion known as "Muted Sights." twice a month, formulated specifically for him (and named) by Severus Snape. Usually, Snape would apparate to a meeting point where they would exchange few words, but yesterday had been particularly hectic. Unable to take the time off, it seemed, Altair had volunteered to go himself, personally, to London. It would be like a vacation, he told himself, except that he would have to be on high alert everywhere he went- which wasn't a change at all.

Altair took the three Galleon portkey to London at 5 in the afternoon, and apparated to Hogsmeade where he waited patiently for the man there. As he waited, however, he kept feeling a certain prickling in his mind, which meant a particularly loud, or bright, (he was never really quite sure how to describe it) magical source was nearby. He shook his head, trying to shove it down as he recognized the black robes billowing in the distance.

.oOo.

Snape was his usual acidulous self, but he honestly did like Altair, if like was such a thing possible for a man like Severus. Altair suspected it was because that he could see, all too clearly, himself in Altair's shoes. He didn't treat Altair like a coward for finding an out, but he did suspect Snape envied him from time to time. Even with the Dark Lord gone, Snape was still on edge, always preparing for the next course of action. Altair almost pitied him.

"I'm going to be late with the headmaster now because of you." Snape sneered, tossing him the potions. The two vials clanked in the paper bag as Altair swiped it from the air.

"Is the Light Lord still into lemon drops?"

"Don't be absurd!" Snape snapped. "Of course, he is!"

The two friendly acquaintances looked at each other and smiled fractionally. Snape still had greasy hair due to the potion fumes, obsidian eyes that could probably set someone on fire, and a tongue that could lash someone quite brutally. He hadn't changed in, in...well, he hadn't changed. Altair, however, was under a simple glamor that made him look much older than he really was.

"You should really take those right away." Snape insisted, indicating to the bag. "You've waited too long, we're already into November."

"Yes, I know." Altair sighed. But he didn't want to yet, even as those obsidian eyes watched him acutely, he couldn't bring himself to mute the powerful tug leading god knows where.

Snape was still staring. "You know the effects of too much exposure. Especially so near Hogwarts, I suggest you do it _now_."

"I will..." Altair paused. Should he tell him or ignore it? Drink the potion and pretend it was never there. Snape was never one to coax- he just waited rather impatiently for Altair to come to an answer. "There's a powerful magical energy near here." Altair finally bit put.

Snape raised a supercilious eyebrow. "Indeed. And the castle is not-?"

"Severus, it's...it's not the castle. The castle's aura is gold; I'm sensing a pulsating emerald. Somewhere...somewhere near here."

"And it's not Hogwarts?" Snape asked again, looking at him like he grew another head.

"No." Altair said definitely.

Snape leaned back in his seat. "Then by all means, sate your curiosity, Altair. But the castle's most likely interfering with your already hyperactive senses. Why you didn't contact me until the beginning of November..."

Altair felt himself grow angry. How dare this man not believe him! But he was a gentle bull by nature, so he just shook his head.

"Thanks, Severus. Go run along to Gandalf now." Altair made a shooing motion with his hand earning a glare from the other.

"You're just lucky I haven't told _Gandalf _of your existence." he said lowly, "But if you do find something..." he left it at that, before striding briskly back to the castle.

But Altair knew better- Severus would never rat out a potential ally. Plus, Altair was too excited to be scared by an old school friend. What _was_ this wild green energy? Who was it? How did it form? Was it real?

He pocketed the potions in his clock and apparated to Diagon Alley. From there, he then continued on foot until he reached a little suburb. The glow was brighter now, the tugging more adamant, and he joyfully followed his senses past a small family-owned farm, a red large mill, a hill, and finally, he stood before the most pitiful orphanage he had ever seen in his entire life.

Penelope's House.

.oOo.

Hasan awoke to a soft hissing coming from somewhere to his right. Yet, he made no move to declare his return to consciousness, for what if it be more advantageous to remain immobile? He sent his senses out, hearing the hissing, but also smelling coffee, and feeling the soft covers and mattress of his bed. Thinking back to last night, the covers of the Leaky Cauldron had been of average quality, mediocre at best (not that Hasan knew much about quality), with an extremely fluffy pillow that his head kept sinking into. Now, it felt just right and _extremely _luxurious. Either he wasn't remembering correctly or he wasn't _there_ at all.

"I know you're not asleep." a low voice intoned from across the room. "You can get up now."

Hasan, determining that he had discovered all of importance from just his senses, had little reluctance with opening his eyes. The man knew he was awake anyway, right? Hasan sat up gingerly, blinking into the bright room with a false air of ignorance. His gaze swept left and right, but his eyesight was never really good.

"How are you?" the voice asked again.

Hasan's eyes narrowed on the speaker who was busy stroking a small black snake. What an odd animal for a pet, Hasan thought, but otherwise had no opinion. It wasn't nice to judge. The room was richly furnished with old mahogany desks and drawers, a table, two couches, and a large mantled fireplace.

"Well enough..." Hasan answered slowly. The man simply nodded.

"That's good. My name's Altair, by the way, Altair Castell. This is my pet, Tina."

:Hello: Tina hissed.

Hasan appeared unfazed- he had talked to snakes before. But when he had told Mrs. Haydn she had called him a rather imaginative young man, and looked at him a little more oddly ever since. So Hasan remained quiet about his ability. It wasn't nice to judge, but people did it anyway.

"Where am I?" Hasan asked, not needing to feign his curiosity and growing panic.

"France." Altair said lazily. It was that one word that jolted Hasan from his thoughts. France? Wait, who the hell was this guy? Why was he here? How did he get here, how long had he been unconscious for?

Hasan bit his lower lip.

"You kidnapped me." It was a statement.

Altair was struck at the nonchalance. "No, I've got the paperwork right here."

That's when Hasan noticed the small manila folder. He made two realizations at once. One, this was the man who wanted to see him yesterday. Two, Altair knew his real name. His dream was over.

He was just Harry.

To any other, this news would elicit sobs that would rack one's small body. To any other, they would scrunch their eyes tight and pray for a hug.

Harry did no such thing.

"What's my name?" he asked slowly. Anything to keep the dream going... He so desperately wanted to be Hasan the wizard, but if the man knew his real name was Harry Potter then there was nothing he could do about it. "What's the folder say? Why did you come? How did you find me?" His persona was falling apart as he spoke, but his voice remained eerily calm- a trait from some mental disorder, he recalled Mrs. Haydn saying.

But surprisingly, the man simply chuckled in front of him. They were little sounds escaping at first, but soon grew into full-bellied laughs. Harry was frozen on the bed.

"Sly thing." Altair was chuckling. His icy eyes met Harry's jaded ones and he stood up to approach him. "You will make a great Slytherin yet, or perhaps a Ravenclaw."

Harry frowned.

"A-a, excuse me, a what-?"

Altair ignored him, "I'm sorry,"-he struggled to get his laughter under control,-"The paperwork doesn't exist."

Something slid from his sleeve into his hand, and a swish of arm brought the manila folder to flames.

"You don't know my name?" Harry breathed out, relieved, hardly registering the fire in the background in his delight. "Mrs. Haydn didn't tell you my name?" His was getting suspicious now, but also hopeful, as all children will wont to be when the best case scenario presents itself as possible.

Altair shrugged. He remembered the conversation vaguely, but he was never one for details. Also, the Magic Sight had been wreaking havoc with his mind, and if the woman told him he could meet the boy the next day, then how was he to know he should have kept the information firmly in his brain? Yes, Altair was a lucky man, but sorely blinded to some obvious things.

"No. I don't believe so." Altair said with a frown, "But I _have_ adopted you, and I would really like to know your name."

Hasan relaxed slightly: his identity was still his secret.

"I call myself Hasan."

A pause.

"Hasan Castell. I like it."

Hasan still felt incredibly awkward in bed, so he made to get up. Altair didn't stop him, so he continued on until he reached the snake. It rose up to greet him, though that wasn't saying much because he was short, even for an eight year old due to the orphanage food, tongue sticking out in flashes.

:Hassssan:

Hasan blinked. Suddenly, the snake was green with bright yellow diamonds. What? The snake was a color changer?

:It isss my ability, little one:

The snake turned fiery red then deep sapphire blue, all within a few seconds, as if to prove its point.

"Altair?" Hasan asked suddenly, his back turned to his new father and eyes entranced by Tina, "Do you believe in magic?"

This puzzled Altair, for the boy nearly spilled over with pure magical energy!

"What? Of course I-" and then it struck him. It struck him hard. "You didn't know- don't know... you're a wizard." he stated ineloquently.

He felt his mouth grow dry as he stared at this little boy, head tilted slightly, so oblivious of the power he contained. How could he have overlooked this detail in his curiosity, determination, and then frustration?

"I dreamed I was a wizard." Hasan said loftily, reaching out to pet Tina. "I fear I must still be dreaming."

Her scales were smooth emerald now, glittering with an iridescent sheen.

"No, Hasan. Look at me." Altair said.

He did so, dull jade eyes gazing up skeptical at icy blue. "You're a wizard... I'm a wizard. Magic _is_ real."

Hasan was petrified, turned to a marble statue as the emerald snake climbed onto his arm.

:It isss true:

"Hasan? Hasan, are you alright? I'm not lying to you: Magic is real."

Tina slithered up around his neck and tasted his cheek with her tongue.

"You better not lie to me." he said eventually, pointing to the pile of ash that was the folder. "I might just burn."

Just then, Tina returned to bright carmine, looking like a bloodied noose around his head. Altair nodded sadly, staring at his hands, knowing now that his display of fire probably didn't do much to ease the boy's concerns. When he looked up, Tina was already back on the table.

"Will you teach me?" Hasan's little voice enquired, hands tangling in his old, tattered sweatshirt. Altair made a mental note to go shopping later. "Magic, I mean." Hasan elaborated.

Altair felt a smile grow over his face.

"I'd like nothing more, Hasan, my son."

* * *

**A/N-**As you've noticed, I've decided to make the chapters longer (2x), which consequently makes periods between updates longer, but I will try to update on Wednesdays from now on. Thanks for the lovely reviews and the lovely people who sent them!

Also, I know it says Harry and Draco, but pairings are still up in the air (though I've got a pretty good idea). If you want to see a specific pairing, please send your opinion in a review.

******Next up (three years later): Diagon Alley**


	3. Diagon Alley

**A/N- **School is starting soon and I won't be able to update as frequently. Also, I'm auditioning for an orchestra this December and practice is brutal! (The audition piece is by Haydn). This will be the last update in a while so please enjoy!

**Also note: **the disclaimer from the past chapters still stand!

Parseltongue will henceforth be in colons!

**:Parseltongue:**

**"Speech"**

* * *

**Return of Emerald**

**Chapter 3: Diagon Alley**

**Three Years Later**

Hasan Castell felt trapped. No, scratch that, he _was_ trapped. In this body and in this dream...

The past three years had been wonderful: Altair had taught him all he needed to know to excel in his first year of Hogwarts, from social norms, to prejudices, to spells, texts, and self-defense. Altair had called him a natural, and loved to watch his son burgeon before his eyes. But Altair, as we know, had a knack for finding himself where he should never have been, but apart from his apparent luck, he was a human like all the rest. He didn't notice Hasan's distress at all. Perhaps it was because it wasn't Hasan's distress but Harry's.

Hasan liked to separate the two, though he knew they were the same. (He wasn't that stupid.) It just made it easier if...if one day he woke up and it was all gone. The magic, the spells, his father. He'd wake up and just be Harry, and life would go on. The thought terrified him. He wanted to be Hasan with all his heart! But he knew the truth. Now, if only his reflection would understand.

Hasan touched his face in the mirror, tracing his rounder jawline, jade-green eyes, and average brown eyebrows. Sometimes he imagined he could see himself...his old self- in the mirror, but a blink later and he was gone. His hair had grown some in the past years, only hindered by two annual haircuts, so that it fell gracefully to his waist. That was another thing he missed: his inky hair that wouldn't lie flat no matter what he did. This style was just too tame, too controlled.

He fought against making a metaphor for his life, and opted to just stare. Stare at the him that wasn't him. If dad found out...would he hate Hasan for deceiving him?

Which brought Hasan to his next issue: He was alone. It did not matter that Altair loved him, because Altair loved Hasan, and Harry was pretending. He had never truly left Red Mill's Hill: he was still there, staring into the sky, and dreaming. It broke his heart.

.oOo.

:Hassssan: Tina slithered into the bathroom, coming up onto the counter.

:Yes, Tina?: Hasan hissed back.

:You are still dreaming that you are _not_ you.:

If snakes could look sympathetic, then that was exactly how Tina looked. She was white at the moment but for a large black dot on her back.

Hasan sighed softly.

:But I am _not_ I*: Hasan hissed sadly, running his fingers over her scales. He was still in his pajamas, but to be fair, it was only five o'clock. He had been up early for today was July 31st.

:That iss sstupid human logic.: Tina told him firmly, :I can be pure white (the black dot disappeared) and then change ssso I am pitch black. (She demonstrated). Yet, I am alwasysss I.:

This managed to bring a smile to the boy's face as the snake changed to a calm turquoise.

"Yeah, I know." Hasan mumbled to himself. He knew he was being melodramatic, but today just brought back thoughts...He splashed water on his face, stroked Tina, and then exited the bathroom.

Perhaps the one thing he missed most was his eyes.

.oOo.

Downstairs, Altair was sipping his coffee with the Daily Prophet opened out onto the table. He always got a bunch whenever Severus came around (which was every month) and therefore, his news was always outdated. But still! He enjoyed keeping up with Wizarding Britain. He still hadn't told Severus of his young charge yet...but why did the man need to know everything?

He was probably more knowledgeable than most of the Wizarding World from being with the Dark Lord and Gan- Dumbledore all the time. Well, not so much the Dark Lord now for he was supposedly dead by some Harry Potter or other. Which reminded him: Harry Potter was going to be going to Hogwarts this year. What a coincidence!

"Morning, Hasan!" Altair cried cheerfully, waving his month-old newspaper with a flourish.

"Morning, Dad." Hasan said, trying not to fall into nostalgia at the name. Honestly, it was just a name! He could be Harry anytime he wanted! Yeah...he couldn't even lie to himself.

Altair dramatically read the last few lines of the paper (making it clear when he had finished reading) as Hasan grabbed some croissants, before shouting, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY SON!"

Hasan smiled at his overenthusiastic father, and settled in beside him with a cup of hot tea and his breakfast.

"I feel old." Hasan grumbled playfully. "If I'm only eleven I wonder what Gandalf feels like."

"It only gets worse from here, son!" Altair ruffled Hasan's hair affectionately, though it straightened back out in seconds. Another thing Hasan tried to ignore.

"Did you see the mail yet?" Altair asked nonchalantly while taking a small sip of his coffee.

"No, I'll-" But as Hasan turned around, Altair swiftly shoved an envelope right under his nose.

"Wha-!" Hasan gaped, before taking the heavy parchment in his hands.

There was an insignia of a lion, snake, badger, and raven, pressed in red wax, which Hasan immediately correlated to the four houses of Hogwarts. Altair told him all about them, plus some other miscellaneous information on some cup of Helga's, diadem of Ravenclaw's and other such nonsense...

Hasan turned over the envelope and read:

**Mr. H Castell**

**The Second Bedroom**

**Castell Estate, France**

"See, this place is so unplottable, we don't even have a proper address!" Altair said happily, taking a generous bite of his food.

"It really came." Hasan breathed, tearing open the letter and reading it hungrily.

"Of course it did! I wouldn't have prepped you on fourth year incantations if I didn't think you'd get in, would I?"

Hasan looked at him dubiously. The man would've prepared for everything and anything if only they had time.

"So does this mean I get a real wand now? I don't need to borrow yours?"

Altair grinned. "Yes! But you _know_, it's not my fault they upped the wand age."

Hasan grinned playfully, "And you're just oh so law abiding, aren't you?"

.oOo.

Three years ago, Hasan would have only been _dreaming_ of wizards with long gray beards and magical staffs, hoping and hoping to wake up one day and be one. He still wasn't sure if he accepted it-who he was- or was becoming. Or that what he lived as Hasan was not all some elaborate, imaginative, dream. To be honest, Hasan knew very well. He wasn't an idiot. But he still couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty whenever he remembered who he really was.

Birthdays tended to trigger bothersome emotions like that.

Altair smiled at him as they entered Diagon Alley in through the Leaky Cauldron, and past the brick wall which Altair tapped opened with a grin.

("Hey isn't that?" Tom asked as the ends of their cloaks disappeared out the door. "No, couldn't be.")

Hasan was amazed at the sheer 'magicalness' of everything and wondered how, three years ago, he had missed all the colorful robes and hats. Everything was just so _exciting_! In France, they had to disguise themselves as muggles, not daring to go into the Wizarding World until it was time. Plus, it wouldn't do any good to be caught in something or other with a foreign government. They didn't do anything that would warrant such attention, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

All around them were families and many _many _children, and teens getting ready for the coming school year. They had on wizards' robes and witches' hats, and some even had owls in cages! When Hasan first confessed to seeing the owls, Altair had only laughed and told him that many owls were disillusioned so that muggles couldn't see them, and the few that did, didn't think much of it. Altair wasn't a muggle hater, but he did think they were rather doltish sometimes, and being raised in a pureblood family, he was more than aware of the blood prejudices. Thus, Hasan knew all about them too.

.oOo.

Hasan was dressed in a grey v-neck and black jeans, with a white scarf to keep him warm. His brown hair was in a thick braid hanging in front of his right shoulder. Altair, glamored to look older, beside him, donning his usual black cloak and keeping his eyes on where they were going. The two passed the apothecary, the quidditch store, Gringott's (they really didn't want to inadvertently set off any alarms), a second-hand robes shop, as well as many others that Hasan just couldn't take in at once. Finally, they reached the very end of the strip, and Altair immediately steered him into an ancient-looking edifice that was supposedly a fine wand shop by the dusty sign out front. But stepping inside, Hasan knew instantly that this was a very genuine place.

Stacks and rows and shelves, of boxes upon boxes of wands lined every surface of the room. Altair was starting to get a mild headache from all the magical energy in the shop and pressed a hand wearily to his forehead.

"Hello?" Altair called out, wanting to be gone as soon as possible, which meant beginning as soon as possible. Just then, an elderly man with wild white hair and myriad wrinkles appeared from behind a shelf, so full, that nothing could be seen behind it.

"Why, hello there! Just be a minute!" Ollivander called out, followed by a crashing sound.

Hasan looked questioningly at his father and frowned in concern when he saw how the man was suffering.

"Why don't you wait outside?" Hasan suggested gently, "I'll just be a minute. Perhaps you could get the other things on the list?"

Altair was reluctant to leave Hasan by himself, but then again, he wasn't too peachy about his migraine either.

"Alright, Hasan. I'll meet you in front of the Menagerie, yes?"

Hasan nodded, and the man was happy to be out the door at last. Many parents would find that buying their child's first wand is a simply resplendent experience, but Hasan had been wielding wands and other weapons for a while now. This was only like replacing a pair of shoes for Altair!

Hasan didn't mind in the least _really_. He turned to face front- and then immediately rethought that statement, for right in front of him stood the wand-maker, and his silvery eyes that seemed to stare straight into the depths of Hasan's soul. Perhaps he should have had Altair stay?

"Hasan, is it?" Ollivander asked with lips quivering in a sort of smile.

Hasan gave slightly less than graceful nod, for it seemed that Ollivander knew him. Him, as in him, him.

"Yes, sir." Hasan answered dutifully, trying and failing to peel his eyes away.

"Hmm." the man seemed lost for a second, but then jerked back to life. "Well, we best get started then. Which arm would be your wand arm, boy?"

"Right."

The man nodded thoughtfully as a measuring tape floated off the desk and began to take calculations. It was similar to when he went robe shopping, or rather, when Monsieur Etienne came to the house, provided Altair with what he needed, and then left without any recollection of what just happened. But this was far more interesting! Everything from his hands to his eyes were measured and it continually just kept moving about! Meanwhile, Ollivander had whirled around and snatched a few dozen boxes seemingly at random. Once the measuring tape settled back down, he tossed a box to Hasan, who caught it, and then eyed him in confusion.

"Just wave it around." Ollivander said like it was obvious but without any trace of haughtiness. Hasan barely brushed against it when the box was taken from his grasp, and replaced with another. Hasan swallowed nervously and tried again, but to the same result.

"Ooh, a tough one! I like challenges." the old man was muttering to himself. "Hmm, perhaps?"

Another box was given to him, and Hasan's fingers managed to hold it, before it was again removed from his fingers.

"Ah! But maybe—?" Hasan was beginning to wish that Altair had stayed for surely this man was mad as a hatter! There was a stack of about fifty wands piled higgly-piggly up on the desk, which was already cluttered with notes and such things. It seemed like he was never going to find a wand just for him, but then, Ollivander returned with yet another wand. Miraculously, the wand-maker seemed to grow happier as the search lengthened and it did a wonder for his face.

"Eleven inches, holly wood, containing exactly one phoenix feather." Ollivander announced. Hasan's fingers wrapped around it, and a sudden warmth ran up his spine. "Wave it!" Ollivander commanded.

Hasan's face broke into a broad smile and he flicked the wand expertly around (though he needn't have) to be rewarded with a bright shower of silver and gold sparks.

"Yes! Yes!" Ollivander was shouting, hands clasped in joy. "And that, Mr. Potter, is a very curious thing indeed."

The sparks ceased instantly.

"Is my appearance down?" Hasan asked pleasantly, feigning nonchalance.

"Oh no, Mr. Potter. I must say, I was second guessing my intuition except that, well that is to say, up until you tried that wand." Ollivander confessed, silver eyes boring into Hasan's as he paid for the wand in shiny, newly converted francs to Galleons.

"What do you mean?" Hasan queried suspiciously. "What about this wand?"

"The wand chooses the wizard- always remember that. But it just so happens that, that wand...Why, its brother gave you that scar."

Hasan gaped at him.

"I got hit in the head with a stick?" Hasan cried in disbelief. Freak, orphan, dreamer, and now...the most pitiful person on earth. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon told him he got it in the car crash that killed his parents, but he liked to believe in his free time that he got it from a heroic battle- like the fatal arrow gone astray, or the blow that nearly killed him. Though he knew both of these were absolutely false, for how could a baby fight? Or better yet, survive? Still, if others at the orphanage asked about it, he would feed them the first creative story that came to mind: I got it when I almost died. The other kids were so freaked out they never asked again.

Ollivander's face fell flat in horror. "Ooooh, dear..." he groaned, his gaze wavering for a split second. Then he seemed to revive himself. "Well, I believe your father is outside!" and then he ushered the boy out before Hasan could process that he wanted to _know,_ more than he wanted to be gone from the man's gaze.

.oOo.

True to his word, there stood Altair outside of the wand-shop, holding a small black owl in a silver cage. Hasan gave one look at the owl before running to hug his father.

"Hey, son." he greeted. "I admit, I hadn't thought it would take as long. But, it all working out, didn't it? You now have your very own wand, and I managed to find this little guy. Happy birthday, Hasan."

"He's ("she's" Altair coughed) oh, she's for me?" Hasan breathed in disbelief, "Thank you so much, dad!"

"Yes, she reminded me of you for some reason." Altair recalled thoughtfully. "She's small, but I don't know. I just tend trust my gut with these sorts of things."

"She's lovely!" Hasan beamed. "What's her name?"

"It's up to you, Hasan. Just, please, name her something creative, won't you?"

Hasan snorted, "Yeah, like Tina? Fine then," he grumbled playfully, "How about Raven?"

Altair stopped in his tracks, "Please don't tell me you're serious!"

Hasan's jade eyes widened dramatically. "Why? You said be creative-!"

"Yes, but Raven?"

"Alright, alright! Goodness, it was only a joke." Hasan stared at his new familiar with innocently large eyes. "Do you like Raven?" he asked her. She hooted once with what Hasan insisted was joy. "See, dad! She loves the name."

Altair heaved a heavy sigh. "Fine, just remind me never to let you name something else ever again."

Raven squawked indignantly and spread her little wings.

Hasan grinned. "Don't listen to him Raven! He's just jealous because he's stuck with the name Altair!"

Altair grinned fondly down at his young charge, and knew he had made the right decision. He had been tempted to get a large, snowy white owl, but knew that Hasan appreciated stealth and discreetness in all things. Raven (he shuddered inwardly), just seemed to call to him, not to mention she was an adorable mass of feathers. Not that, not that Altair really thought things could be adorable...

"Where are we off to now?" Hasan asked eagerly. "I've already got my wand, robes, owl...!"

They continued to walk, passing a quidditch supply shop where a mass of kids were oohing over some broom called the Nimbus 2000. Hasan had only gone flying a handful of times, and though he was talented, he rather preferred staying on his own two feet, thank you very much. There were just too many dangers with flying that Altair was quick to point out by jinxing his broom those number of times. Hasan wasn't terribly interested anyway. Maybe it was because brooms circled about quidditch, and sports never appealed to Hasan. Kids at the orphanage would play ball from time to time, but Hasan just sat alone and read his book. He barely gave the broom a glance.

"We can head to the book store, then the Cauldron shop. Maybe we'll even have dinner out tonight at the Leaky Cauldron, and then finish off the day with ice cream at Fortescue's?" Altair was saying, stopping outside of the book store. Hasan looked up at Altair with pure love in his eyes. He nodded excitedly, knowing that it cost the man much to be out in public, for Altair was supposed to be dead, he knew. Which made it all the more meaningful. This was the best birthday yet!

The two spent the next two hours buying supplies and conversing with shop owners to see which brand they preferred or what texts they recommended for enrichment reading. While Altair was paying for his potion's supplies- the last items on the list, thank the heavens! -Hasan was occupied studying a reaction chart. It had a list of potion ingredients on one side, and when touched, it would explain the properties, and how to neutralize or emphasize a certain feature. It was rather fascinating, for Hasan was curious about the potions his father took each month, but had yet to try his hand at the art of potions making.

"Oh, is that very fascinating?" a cheery voice spoke from over his shoulder.

"Oh-!" Hasan slowly turned to find a girl his age, with bushy brown hair, soft chocolate eyes, and a dazzling smile. He had been so engrossed by the chart that he hadn't even notice her sneak up on him!

"I'm Hermione Granger by the way. What's your name?"

Hasan smiled warmly as he shut the book and slipped it back on the shelf.

"I call myself Hasan Castell." he said. His eyes flickered to her obviously muggle clothes, and then to her parents (the lost looking, but curious people in the doorway), and realized that she must be a muggleborn. "Do you need help finding anything?" Hasan asked sweetly.

"Oh no! I just bought my things but then I saw you and thought I should really see if you've found something interesting!" she spoke swiftly, but seemed comfortable enough in his presence. It must have been some habit, Hasan thought. "I'm super excited for Hogwarts!" the girl went on, "I've read up on everything I can! Did you know that the Boy-Who-Lived will be in our year? I can't wait to meet him! I bet he's super courageous. That would put him in Gryffindor, I suppose. I think I'm much more of a Ravenclaw, but I don't know. I'd really love to be with Harry."

Hasan gulped, "Harry?"

"Oh, yes? Didn't you know? Harry Potter's the Boy-Who-Lived! They say he's got a lightning bolt scar! Yes, right on his forehead! You didn't know?"

Hasan nodded at her absently, though his mind was racing. The Boy-Who-Lived? Harry Potter? How could it be that a muggleborn knew all this and yet, he did not? He'd have to ask Altair about it later.

"Oh, I really like your owl by the way!" Hermione continued, peering at Raven through the bars. "I think I might need one to send letters home and such."

"Perhaps a grey and white one? I've already got names picked out! Most are saints or have Greek significance...What's your owl's name?"

"Er, Raven." Hasan cringed.

"How creative!" Hermione beamed. "She's so small. It is a she, isn't it? Good, thank goodness! I would never have thought of a name like Raven to name an owl..." While she was rambling, Raven let out a sweet low hoot, and Hermione giggled at its adorableness.

"Oh, who's this dear?" Hermione's mother came over to greet him finally, when Hermione was seen engaged in avid conversation. Her mother had perfect white teeth and the same curly brown hair, though much calmer looking than her daughter's.

"This is Hasan, mum! Hasan, this is my mum!"

"How do you do, Hasan? I'm Helen Granger, and that's my husband, Jeremy."

"Hello, Mrs. Granger." Hasan said politely.

"Is this your first year at Hogwarts, too?" she asked kindly. She wanted to help her daughter establish relationships before she was out of their grasp. It wasn't that Hermione had trouble making friends, well, it was just that others were jealous of her natural talents! Anyway, Helen mentally shook herself, she wanted what was best for her baby girl. Perhaps that's why her smile came off as so saccharine. Ironic really for a dentist.

"Yes, it is." Hasan told her proudly. "I understand Hermione's going to be in my year too. At least we'll both be going in with a friend." Hasan said this all with such innocence that Hermione's eyes watered, and Helen's gratitude rolled off her in waves.

"Oh, do you really mean it Hasan? I mean, I'm so glad we're friends!" Hermione squealed, before fluidly hugging him within her step. Helen beamed at the two children, knowing that Hasan was a good match for her child. Hermione could be somewhat pushy at times, but Hasan seemed calm and patient enough to take it.

"Hermione, did you want that book?" Helen asked, needing a diversion to stop her from tearing up, by pointing to the reaction chart. Hermione nodded vigorously- she would never deny more books- and Helen called her husband over (he was currently admiring some no-grease: hair protector,) to pay for it. That's when Altair made his appearance, looking one minute like an ominous secret agent emerging behind a shelf, the next like a welcoming old father.

"Hello, pleased to meet you. Altair Castell at your service!" Altair smiled broadly at Hermione and her mother alternatively.

"Helen, a pleasure, and this is my daughter Hermione."

"She's a first year just like me." Hasan whispered helpfully. Altair nodded, glad to be privy of such information when he could 'stick a face to it,' and said with as much regret as he could muster: "I'm terribly sorry, but Hasan and I must get going..."

"Oh don't be, we were just on our way as well!" Helen informed them as Jeremy returned with the now paid for book. Hermione gave Hasan one last tentative hug before scampering after her parents to the Owl Emporium.

"Muggleborn?" Altair asked lightly as they exited the shop and headed to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Yes. She seems rather bright for an eleven year old." Hasan remarked.

"Right, because it is such a pain to be around dunderheads all the time, isn't it?" Altair joked, knowing that Hasan was wise beyond his years.

"Of course." Hasan returned playfully as they turned into the pub.

.oOo.

The interior of the Leaky Cauldron was just as Hasan remembered: it was warm, cozy, and extraordinarily loud! They ordered their food and Hasan got a hot chocolate as Altair drank his butterbeer. Hasan looked around at all the witches and wizards before noticing a rather large man. His head nearly reached the ceiling! And that was saying something for the ceiling was quite high.

"Ah! That is Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of the keys at Hogwarts." Altair said, following his son's gaze. "I think he's also half-giant... or at least that's what I've heard." (Altair tended to hear all sorts of odd knowledge.)

Hasan listened closely as the half-giant began to speak animatedly with Tom:

"An' I delivered 'im there! I took 'im ter live with those muggles! Even the headmaster thought it was fer the best!" Hagrid wailed quietly.

"Perhaps he has been adopted by someone else?" Tom suggested helplessly.

"No, I wen ter the orphanage righ' before an' they say they've never seen 'im. Those muggles were lying! Probably turned 'im out on the streets!" Hagrid sighed. "Well, if ya see 'im. I've a got ter get a package fer Professor Dumbledore."

With that, Hagrid made to leave, except that he bumped into someone he greeted as Professor Quirrell. Quirrell seemed to babble a lot and his eyes kept dancing frantically around the room. Altair made a grunt that captured Hasan's attention immediately.

"What is it?" Hasan enquired.

"That...man. Stay away from him, Hasan. I'm getting rolls of dark magic off him." The likes of which he hadn't even seen since...the Dark Lord. "I think he's going to be teaching, just try not to get any detentions with him..." Altair whispered.

"Dark magic?" Hasan enquired. "If he teaches DADA, then shouldn't he be exposed-?"

Altair was shaking his head. "This is different Hasan. Very different."

.oOo.

After their early dinner, Altair and Hasan were on their merry way to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, when in the distance, a group of wizards in brown trench coats were huddled in front of Gringott's.

"Aurors?" Hasan asked. Altair nodded grimly and led Hasan away. "Why are there aurors?" he asked again when Altair ignored him. "They couldn't have found you, you know. Maybe they're looking for that missing boy. The one Hagrid was talking about?"

Altair frowned. He was torn between staying and giving Hasan a treat of freedom, but he was also terrified. Aurors were aurors no matter their current purpose and if somehow, they recognized him. Asked him a question. Saw Hasan with him. Oh, dear. He quickly cast another glamor to turn his hair white before he was comfortable enough to continue on to the parlor.

Hasan held on to his owl's cage, while his supplies were shrunken in his jeans' pocket. He waited patiently on the bench, staring curiously at the aurors across the street. Where they really here for one missing boy? Hasan thought back to when he had run off from Penelope's House and how no one had sent a search party out for him. Yet he couldn't bring himself to be jealous because he was just too grateful to be here. Now. In Diagon Alley. Altair had come to find him, and that was worth more than a bunch of Ministry minions anyway. Besides, he wouldn't have appreciated the attention. He felt safely tucked away behind jade green irises and dark brown hair. They were his mask of sorts, even if he knew what emerald was lurking beneath.

Suddenly, a blonde-haired boy was right in front of him, giving Raven a pointed look. When he noticed that Hasan had seen him, he straightened his posture, and said in a rather haughty voice,-

"Draco Malfoy." He had platinum blonde hair, and piercing grey eyes (for a kid at least), with a pointed chin and slight mouth. Gray robes hung over a green vest and dark gray trousers, giving him an overall studious look. "What's your name?" he all but demanded, assessing Hasan from head to toe. He seemed to decide Hasan was decent enough to be seen with for he sat himself down next to him. Hasan glimpsed Altair out of the corner of his eye- he was still in line, behind a woman with bubblegum pink hair.

"I call myself Hasan."

"You call yourself?" Draco repeated dubiously.

"Yeah, I grew up in France." Hasan explained (having come up with this years ago.) "In French, we say 'Je m'appelle,' which means I call myself."

For fear of looking slow, Draco nodded as if he understood.

"You don't have a French accent." he pointed out.

"My father's British. I rarely leave the house." Hasan said as if it were obvious. In reality, Altair just cast spells on them so that they could understand and speak French fluently, but Hasan had picked up a few things here and there. Draco blinked in surprise before smiling slightly. A recovery, Hasan noted with interest, and not a fast one either. Though he was beginning to see potential in the Malfoy boy. He adapted quickly (enough) and knew good fashion when he saw it, Hasan thought with a smirk.

"What house do you think you'll be in at Hogwarts?" Draco asked, ready to move onto a subject he knew something about.

"They all sound good," Hasan sidestepped the question, "And you?"

"Slytherin!" Draco said proudly. "My whole family's been in Slytherin, can you imagine being a Hufflepuff?" he laughed a bit at his own joke before he noticed a tall, white-haired man loom over them. He had two ice-cream cones in his hand, one with chocolate and one with vanilla- it kind of nullified his ominousness.

"Come on, Hasan." his voice was low but left no room for argument. Hasan let a mask slip onto his face, not knowing if he did something wrong, or if the aurors had come or if Draco was also covered in dark magic. He gave Draco a polite nod before letting himself be dragged off. Once they were out of earshot, Altair handed him the cone and told him they were leaving. Too many aurors, too many faces.

But Hasan knew better. As they were leaving, he managed to see a taller, prouder, and much more dangerous version of Draco emerge from where he must have been spying in the tiny shop next door. The blonde man that reminded Hasan of a type of older and more sinister Legolas, turned slowly to fix Hasan Castell in a predatory stare. He murmured a few words to his son, Draco, who then looked over at Hasan rather tactlessly, before Hasan was hidden by the crowd. It was palpable now that Altair had been scared of this boy and his father, and that just caused more questions to arise. He resolved to ask about this later as Altair apparated them out.

Draco looked from Hasan to the old white-haired man, back to his father.

"Oh, that's Hasan!" Draco answered. "He seems nice enough. Pureblood I expect."

"And his companion?" Lucius enquired.

"I'm not sure. He looks old enough to be his grandfather."

"You didn't get a last name?"

At this, Draco was looking at his father suspiciously. He never asked a lot of questions unless he knew the answer and was waiting for Draco to come to the same conclusions. But what conclusions could be drawn from a simple hello?

"No, father. They're from France, I think." Draco added rapidly, trying to appease his father. "Why? Is Hasan not a pureblood?" Draco was beginning to get very worried. His father disliked mudbloods, blood traitors, and muggles with a passion, and Draco had better avoid them if he could help it, not initiate a conversation and then been seen with the kid!

Lucius thought for a moment, then replied.

"I want you to keep an eye on him, Draco. I am not aware of a Hasan on the Black Family Tree, but that would be explained if he is from France. I do wonder why he's going to Hogwarts then if he's closer to Beauxbatons."

"He didn't have an accent either." Draco said. "But I'll keep my eye on him, Father... Oh, Mother!" he exclaimed, as the golden-blonde witch advanced with bags full of clothes...

* * *

**A/N-**

***There's a really nice poem by this name "I am not I"**

**Did you like it? I think I did alright with Hermione and Draco. I'm going to try and keep them as much as in character as possible. Sorry if Hermione seems a little OOC.**

(Also, I plan on Hermione staying Hasan's friend. Ron will have his on and offs, but Hermione is definitely going to be in the story. Sorry guys. Keep in mind that they are only in their first year, which I'm condensing quite a bit. Hermione's morals and stubborn views on Wizarding society will start up in CoS, so we have one more year to go. For now, she'll be that character I need to connect Slytherins with Gryffindors.)

**Please review and let me know what you think of the story so far! I really appreciate all of your reviews, especially the ones on pairings. **

**If you could please vote?**

**1) Hermione/Ron**

**2) Hermione/Theo**

Next up: The Hogwarts Express


	4. The Hogwarts Express

**A/N-** Someone mentioned that Hasan didn't need to undergo some ritual to change his appearance. But let me remind you, this is Harry Potter, master of exceptions! His looks are much more powerful than a simple glamor, so no one would detect it...unless they're Ollivander...I don't know how Ollivander knows all of this stuff, but in this fanfiction he does!

Also, Altair didn't exactly legally adopt Hasan. The manila folder was a farce, and Altair made sure to destroy all other legal documents. (Let's just say he set things on fire at the orphanage before reading them first, because he does NOT know who Hasan really is.)

I was planning to update later, but my cousin just got married yesterday and I thought it would be nice to post something for you all!

* * *

**Return of Emerald**

**Chapter 4: The Hogwarts Express**

Their ice cream was mostly finished now, eaten carefully and somewhat sadly in their hidden manor. Hasan wished they could have finished them in Diagon Alley- it would have made his birthday complete- but he also knew there was a reason why they had to have left. And Hasan was going to get to the bottom of it.

Hasan watched his dad, whom had already finished his cone, down his last potion of the month, shudder, and then put the stopper back in. They were sitting in the living room, where on his first day there, Altair had magicked a bed across from the kitchen. Today, the two couches sat perpendicular with the longer one facing the fireplace, and the shorter one with its back to the kitchen. Hasan bit off the bottom of his cone, and then turned to stare at his father. His school supplies were already packed away, and his new owl, Raven, was sleeping in her cage on top of the trunk.

Altair noticed Hasan's look and feigned ignorance, but he was never one to put up with unsaid conversations. He ended up sighing and asking the inevitable question:

"What?"

Hasan bit his lower lip, an affectation he had adopted for his demeanor of 'Hasan,' dull jade eyes studying his father's now brown hair, (the white hair was kind of odd, so Altair had taken down the glamour as soon as they arrived), as he began the interrogation.

"Why haven't I ever heard of the Dark Lord?" His words hung in the heavy air, betrayal infused with the slight strain on his voice. "Why did Hermione Granger, that muggleborn witch I've met today, know more about Wizarding society than me? Have you been lying to me? Keeping things from me? Is this why you've been training me? Because of some Dark Lord who's supposed to be dead?"

Altair flinched back at his son's harsh words. Hasan didn't shout, he didn't ask questions that Altair didn't have the answers to, but this came too close. Too uncomfortably close to a truth Altair had wished to delay the disclosure of.

"Hasan..." he began heavily, "Do you remember when I adopted you?"

"Yes. You set the bloody folder on fire before I knew what magic was." Hasan answered apathetically, wondering where this was going.

Altair chuckled at the memory, but the sound was half-hearted and pitifully melancholy.

"And you know I must take _those_ potions twice a month." Altair said, gesturing to the vial.

Hasan nodded. Yes, he wasn't a complete idiot.

"I am _alive_, you know. But what does that have to do with me?"

"Oh, I'm not sure if I should work backwards or forwards." Altair sighed to himself. "Well, let's start backwards until I can't retell any further, alright?...So I found you at the Leaky Cauldron, tracing you from Penelope's House to there. I suppose you assumed I had just cast a point-me or something, but we found out later that you're unplottable. I can only guess that you've had a tracking charm on you before and your magic rejected it in a time of need. I suppose that raises more questions though, like who and why, but the point is that _I_ did not cast a spell to find you."

Hasan nodded slowly, watching his father's face for signs of distress or indications of falsehood. He only found a tired man, made to turn out his only valuable possessions. But Hasan didn't care. This man had lied to him! Or at least hid the truth, and though nothing could indict him yet, there must have been a reason for the secrecy.

"How did you find me then?" Hasan asked to get the story moving along.

"I followed your magical aura." Altair said, a proud gleam in his eyes. "Yours was so powerful and...pure. I have the ability to sense magic in that way, which was why I had to leave the wand shop or risk a killer headache. These Muted Sight potions nullify my power, or dampen it at worst. But I was not born with this power, this Magic Sight. I had taken a random assortment of potions, many years ago, hoping that it would kill me. It did not."

"You tried to kill yourself, but instead got a power. You found an orphan with power and adopted him, and you hide in France when it's clear you belong in Britain. Why kill yourself? What was the alternative? Was someone after you— it was...the Dark Lord wasn't it?"

"Yes, Hasan, the Dark Lord." Altair shuddered. "V-v-voldem-mort."

"Flight of death." Hasan whispered. "It's French, so why are we hiding in France if you're trying to get away,...unless he too belongs to Britain."

"Yes, he was British, and he was a madman. He wa-is obsessed with blood-purity and immortality! The former was how he gained his initial followers. The latter was what twisted him beyond repair. His name was Tom, did you know that?" Altair trailed off.

"But he's gone." Hasan whispered. "Hermione said that the Boy-Who-Lived killed him." She also said that the Boy-Who-Lived was Harry Potter, and that he would be coming to Hogwarts this year. Hasan shoved these thoughts down, not wanting to have to deal with the guilt of his deception. Hypocrite, indeed, he was hiding more than his father would have ever thought.

"I've heard that rumor too." Altair sighed. Hasan's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you not telling me? Why was Voldemort after you?"

"I'm not a great Potions Master, or a skilled duelist, but you see, I've got this knack of getting into things I shouldn't. Not that Voldemort cared about luck, but I would have made the superb spy. The Dark Lord wanted to install one into Hogwarts, and I was truly terrified. The Dark Lord killed millions of families during the First Wizarding War. He was a ruthless killer, something entirely less than human! I had to get away, so I drank the potions. It was a bargain, but my luck pulled me through."

"You don't seem to rely on luck much now." Hasan remarked dryly, remembering the grueling training sessions accompanied with the words 'luck can't save you all the time.' "And I'd wager, you don't believe Voldemort's gone either." Altair really did flinch. "What?"

"You-Know-Who, or the Dark Lord. Never Voldemort." Altair said. He had wished to keep from saying this, but he really didn't want to hear that name more than was necessary. Besides, what would Hogwarts think of a boy who said Voldemort?

"Okay, the Dark Lord..." Hasan paused, knowing that fear over a name was stupid, but respected his dad enough to abide by his request. He thought over the day and how many questions he had over it. "Why did we have to leave just now? And don't tell me you were seen, you couldn't have been if you faked your own death, and I know for a fact it wasn't the aurors."

"Got me there." Altair grumbled. "That boy you were with...he just looked familiar, that's all." Altair tried to keep an air of nonchalance, but a heavy sadness drew over him like a shroud. Hasan remembered the cool stare of Draco's father and knew that _his_ father must have known him. Perhaps at Hogwarts.

"His father." Hasan breathed. "You knew his father."

Altair nodded, looking suddenly as if miles away.

"Yes, Lucius Malfoy. He practically runs the Ministry of Magic with all the wealth he's got. Not to mention other incentives. He's a right bastard, through and through."

"He's dangerous, basically." Hasan confirmed slowly.

"Yes."

"He was a supporter of the Dark Lord?"

A nod. "Yes, he is."

"And you aren't forbidding me from befriending his son?"

Altair hesitated. "N-no."

"Even if his father wants him to watch me?"

"How did you-?"

"I figured." Hasan yawned. "Draco made it pretty obvious that they were discussing me. If you had forbidden me from seeing him, it would only cause suspicion. His father would want to know why I was avoiding them, and if they thought my parents had something to do with it, then they might just pry a little too far."

Altair smiled proudly at his son. "Sometimes I forget just how smart you are. You'll do great at Hogwarts, I know it."

"Thanks dad."

"And don't forget it. Just because _I_ didn't give birth to you doesn't me you aren't my son."

"Dad!" Hasan laughed.

"Go to bed, son. Maybe even crack open a potions journal- there's no need to hide what I take any longer."

Hasan obeyed, eager to learn more.

But Altair stayed up many hours later.

.oOo.

"ALBUS! I TOLD YOU THAT THOSE MUGGLES WERE GOOD FOR NOTHING ORDINARY OBSESSED PEOPLE!"

"Minerva, dear!"

"DON'T YOU DARE 'DEAR' ME, ALBUS!"

Pomona glanced at Poppy uncomfortably as they entered the room side-by-side. Minerva and Albus were usually in total agreement, so when they had been called up to the headmaster's office, they had not expected to find one irritated Severus Snape (actually they had), one distraught Hagrid, and exactly one Albus and one Minerva at war.

"What's going on?" Pomona ventured as she drew closer into the room.

"Ask _him_!" Minerva screeched, pointing accusingly at Albus.

"Albus?" Pomona enquired. Albus shuddered slightly before answering rather reluctantly, as if ashamed of his past actions.

"Yes, well...(Albus cleared his throat.) Ten years ago, Harry Potter was taken to his aunt and uncle's house, related through Lily—"

"Professor Dumbledore, no! It was ME! I took 'im there! I sentenced lil' Harry to those terrible muggles!"

"Be quiet, Hagrid!" Minerva said sharply, having already had enough of his wails, "It was not your fault! _Albus_ and I came later and could have taken Harry away if only _someone_ hadn't insisted on the bloodwards. Which, by the way, were not detected at the Dursley residence last time I checked!"

Albus had the sense to look abashed.

"Minerva, what are you saying?" Poppy piped up. "Is Harry not going to come to Hogwarts?"

"Oh, just like his father! Too cool to show up to get an education!" Severus sneered. His lips pressed into a fine line as he continued his mental libel.

"Severus, is that really necessary? Harry isn't James, besides, you haven't even met the kid." Poppy chided, then turning to Albus. "Now, Albus, what's the matter?"

"Harry's gone." Albus said quietly. There was a hush that fell over the room. "His relatives dropped him off at an orphanage near London called Penelope's House, when he was just four. When Hagrid went to the orphanage in search of answers, the one manager had no recollection whatsoever of such a boy existing. None of the kids did either."

"But surely their memories could have been tampered with!" Pomona shouted outraged. How could you just lose a kid? Harry Potter, no less!

"Yes, we thought of that. But either the person who erased the memories was talented enough to not leave any traces, or the Dursley's lied, which isn't so hard to believe. Did you know they made the boy live in the cupboard under the stairs?" Minerva exclaimed. "Yes! We searched the house and there had been signs of someone actually _living_ under the stairs!"

There was a long silence, only broken by Snape's usual insightfulness.

"If he does not show up tomorrow, the Wizarding World will be in an uproar. I suggest we fabricate some sort of story that the _Boy-Who-Lived _is off training in the mountains." He tried, really he did, to not sneer Harry's epitaph, because he was, really and truly, concerned. Which was funny really, seeing how he was determined to hate the Potter boy.

"And when he's not here next year and the year after?" Poppy shook her head. "No, this is just terrible! Does the rest of the staff know?"

"Only a few." Albus said. "I'll continue to see if I can reactivate the tracking charm I've placed on him, and then we'll look into scrying..."

The staff members nodded solemnly as the truth sunk in. Harry Potter, the boy they had been waiting for forever, the boy who they'd talked of during staff meetings, and the boy who was the savior of the Wizarding World was missing. And if Dumbledore couldn't find him, then it was a very worrying thing indeed.

"What's odd about this," Minerva started quietly, "is that the book hasn't erased his name." She walked to the back of the office, and summoned the large tome underneath the sorting hat. The book opened to the correct page as if reading her thoughts, and she placed it on the headmaster's desk. Written in beautiful script was the list of this generation of Hogwart's students, ranging from Hannah Abbott to Blaise Zabini.

They frowned at the not-crossed-out name of Harry Potter asking themselves what it could possibly mean. That had gone over the list of students so many times that it seemed so real and natural that Harry Potter would be coming this year. Apparently he would not.

"We still need to prepare for the Welcoming Feast." Albus said sadly, dismissing the rest of the staff with a wave of his arm. Sad glances caught each other as they walked out. How could this have happened?

What no one by Severus saw, however, was a rather peculiar jotting of Hasan Castell. Severus made no indication of having seen it, though, and swept immediately to the dungeons upon being dismissed. Striding down to the Potions Classroom, he thought of the Muted Sights potion he had yet to make for September for a certain Altair Castell. Why the idiot decided that ingesting mystery potions was the best way out, Severus would never know, but what he did know, was that Altair did not have a son. He knew this positively, as did the rest of the Death Eaters sent to investigate his sudden disappearance.

Perhaps the boy was adopted then? How odd. Altair wasn't one to go out of his way, preferring to lay low least someone recognize him from their school days. Still, it begged the question: How? And suddenly, Severus Snape wasn't so bored at the prospect of more cretins entering the school. Even if one of those cretins was his own godson.

This was going to be an interesting year indeed.

.oOo.

(One Month Later.)

Altair Castell and Hasan materialized in a small alleyway near King's Cross Station.

"Here's your ticket, Hasan. Have a fun year, use that head of yours."

He kissed his son's brow and handed him his trunk and owl, before disappearing with a 'pop'. Hasan understood his father's paranoia just a little bit better now, and didn't feel too bad about walking alone to the station, while everyone else was surrounded by loving family. He passed a group of redheads, causing quite a cacophony in the parking lot, and wondered how the mother could live with them all as he entered into the building.

Platform 9 and 3/4, easy right? Hasan looked around the large station, spotting the Platform 10 sign quite easily in the distance. He hurried towards it, dragging his small trunk behind him, eager to be on his way to the Hogwarts Express. But as he neared it, the tell-tale white-blonde hair of Lucius Malfoy was right in front of him. Shit indeed.

Next to Lucius was a lovely woman with golden hair, the tassels falling elegantly down her back. Both parents wore a set of resplendent dark green robes, trimmed with black that looked silver when the light caught it. Draco was looking at the wall apprehensively, wearing black robes with his platinum hair slicked back. He carried a small leather trunk, most likely under a shrinking charm, and an owl in a silver cage in his other hand. The trunk's wheels slowed, indicating that the family had just got there, and that Hasan had been following them for some time, despite not noticing it. Or maybe, Draco was just scared.

"It's alright, Dragon, just walk right through. We'll be right behind you." the woman beamed, placing a comforting hand on Draco's shoulder.

"A Malfoy is never scared." Lucius stated as sympathetically (or rather pathetically) as he could. Emotion wasn't exactly his strong suit, at least, not directed at his son or wife, or any other family member. But he did have some fatherly instincts that made him want to soothe Draco's worry, that, and he hardly needed people talking about Draco's nervousness.

Draco gave a curt nod to his parents and stepped through the barrier, his mother right on his heels to be there for him on the other side. Hasan found himself pondering a mother's affection for her child, and wondered absently if his mother held any of the same sort of love for him. From Altair's patchy answers yesterday, Hasan had managed to stitch together an accurate picture of Harry Potter's beginnings as well as discover a few other things:

First of all, the Dark Lord was rumored to be vanquished...by a one-year-old, (he had pieced his age together from the Dursley's complaints. Apparently, he had intruded on the family when he was only a year old.) This meant that the Dark Lord had probably killed his parents. For, apart from the Dursley's, who would leave a baby unsupervised?

Second, Lucius Malfoy and Altair knew each other and Altair was terrified of discovery, yet, he was allowed to befriend the Malfoy heir because Altair loved him like a son.

Third, Lucius Malfoy was a follower of Lord Voldemort, who was not dead (if Altair was correct), which meant if Voldemort came back and decided to kill him again- a very likely possibility since he was known as the Boy-Who-Lived- Lucius would probably want the glory of delivering Hasan to the Dark Lord.

So basically, Hasan would have to make sure Draco and he were very close in order to have a fair warning of his possible death. Either by Draco going out of his way to find something out and report back to him, like a spy, or Draco's behavior would be so familiar that he would give himself away by acting out of the ordinary.

Hasan was pretty complacent about his new plan. It was all common sense, really. Thoughts of friendship were so far off the mark that Hasan didn't feel the least bit guilty about hoodwinking another innocent soul. He never had any friends, and didn't entertain the prospect of gaining any more in the future. With these happy thoughts, Hasan watched Lucius step through the barrier after his wife, and then he followed.

.oOo.

Hasan passed through the barrier gracefully, blinking in wonder at the sheer mass of hidden people. Families were packed comfortably throughout the hustle and bustle, kissing reluctant kids, or beaming at eager children ready to be sent off to yet another lovely year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hasan glimpsed the Malfoy's off talking with some other (probably pureblood) family, and walking away. Damn, they moved fast. Hasan was actually in indecision at this point. He didn't want to make it so blatantly obvious as to follow Draco like a lapdog, but he was determined to get close one way or another. Yet, why cut off your other options? He smiled charmingly around the crowded station, and picked his way through until he reached a familiar face.

"Hasan!" the bushy haired witch screamed, running and giving him a hug. She was already in her witch's robes just as Hasan was in his wizard's. The excited girl seemed to remember herself a minute later, however, because she hastily removed herself from his person and blushed at the ground.

"Hello, Hermione!" Hasan replied smoothly, before beaming up at her parents. The mother looked extremely pleased that Hasan had remembered her daughter, the father, on the other hand, looked positively calculating, probably to remember his face in case Hasan 'messed' with his daughter later on in life. Helen seemed to know what Jeremy was thinking for she nudged him slightly in the arm. The husband nodded then slapped a semi pleasant smile on his face, seeing as Hermione was only eleven, but well, fathers will be fathers, and he was only looking out for her.

"I'm Jeremy, Hermione's father."

"Mr. Granger," Hasan smiled, "I call myself Hasan."

The man looked oddly at his sentence structure, but before he could comment, Hermione pounced.

"Where's _your _father?" Hermione queried innocently, looking around at the space behind him.

"He had to work really early today, but he was kind enough to drop me off." Hasan said cheerfully, though he felt anything but.

"Oh, that's nice of him." Hermione agreed readily, but Hasan thought he saw a glimmer of understanding in her chocolate brown eyes.

"I think the Express is scheduled to leave in five minutes." Helen remarked to Hermione's absolute excitement.

"I can't wait!" she squealed, hastily giving her parents a hug.

Hasan watched them as they embraced, with slowly blinking eyes. He added this to his list of things he knew about love and family, which was admittedly very short, seeing as his only real (he used this word loosely for he was never quite sure what real was) family was Altair, and even that was just for three years. Yet remarkably, Hasan didn't feel a pang of jealousy, or regret at not having parents. Goodness knew he had his own moments of _emotion_ but generally speaking, he was rather unattached to his sensitive side. It wasn't like he knew his parents. It didn't make sense to mourn over ideas.

As Hermione turned back around, her parent's handed her her owl and trunk, before she waved good-bye to them and walked with Hasan to the Hogwarts Express.

"You've got an owl." Hasan observed, nodding to the gray and white feathered creature.

Hermione nodded eagerly. She had actually gotten in the owl in hopes of being more like Hasan, and having something they might share. "I named him Caelus. After the sky god, you know?"

The two clambered aboard, and quickly found an empty compartment near the back of the train. Hasan put his trunk on the floor and Raven beside him. Hermione watched him and then did much the same. Just as the train began to move, blowing a cloud of steam with a high-pitched whistle, their compartment door slid open rather suddenly, revealing a pale, red-headed boy with freckles dotting his nose.

"Er, hi." the newcomer said, letting himself inside and plopping his things down before glancing up wearily. "Um, everywhere else is full." he said rather lamely. "Do you mind?"

Hermione glanced at Hasan before nodding her assent. The thing about Hermione was that she desperately wished for friends, approval, or praise in general. This didn't make her a bad person or a weak person, but it did make her agree rather easily to things she obviously wouldn't have been too sure of agreeing to otherwise. For instance, this boy's manners clearly startled her (offense was too strong a word for the first encounter), but she wanted to make as many friends as possible, whether that meant having this new boy's acceptance, or Hasan's approval.

"Hi, I'm Ron, Ron Weasley." the freckled boy said quietly, settling awkwardly next to Hasan. He kept about a foot of space between them, his hands fidgeting as he looked at them both.

Weasley...Hasan vaguely remembered Altair saying that the Weasley's were what some considered blood-traitors. Altair didn't believe in such inane drivel as blood prejudices, and had even began a study on why blood had no effect on one's magical output.

"I'm Hermione Granger." Hermione introduced herself quickly. "And that's Hasan Castell."

"Hello." Hasan said kindly, shaking the Weasley boy's hand. "That was close. Did you get here late?"

Ron's pallor suddenly flushed a brilliant tomato red. "Um, I came on time, but I was just looking for someone."

"Really, who?" Hermione asked with interest. Ron fidgeted some more before cracking.

"Harry Potter." Ron admitted with some reluctance.

"Why? Surely you know that he's been training in the mountains! It was in the Daily Prophet this morning!"

Wait, mountains? Hasan thought dubiously.

"Yeah, that's what the fifth compartment I checked told me." Ron said. "Knew I shouldn't have trusted Fred and George." he muttered. Hasan assumed that these were just two of his brothers, the twins if he remembered correctly.

"It's odd, I know. All through August the aurors were searching Diagon Alley over for Harry Potter. It seemed they were trying to keep his location under wraps from the Ministry, whoever sent him for training that is." Hermione said thoughtfully.

Just then a tiny squeak could be heard from Ron's robe pocket. A tiny brown nose peaked out, and then a little rodent head.

"You have a rat...as a pet?" Hermione stated, looking between the rat and Ron alternatively.

"His name's Scabbers, got him from Percy." Ron said proudly, taking the rodent in his hand. It's nose swiveled back and forth in the air, as if dancing before looking back at Ron.

Hasan couldn't quite place it, but it seemed as if the rat had been listening. As if it were intelligent, as strange as that seemed. Then again, he was riding on the Hogwarts Express to a magical school, so what did he know anymore?

"Hey, want to hear a spell?" Ron asked, which immediately caused Hermione to rave at top speed about everything she had done and knew and learned for Hogwarts. Hasan had zoned out during this time, a time long enough for the sweets' trolley to visit them (then pass on as Ron had a squished sandwich and Hermione was talking and Hasan didn't care), until Hermione had gone silent, letting Ron actually start the spell.

"Sunshine daisies-" Hermione's frowned dubiously as she debated whether to tell him that it wasn't a spell. She wanted to be polite, but she just knew things about spells, and that certainly was not a spell, "-Butter mellow!-"

Luckily, she needn't have worried so much over it, for the compartment door slid open at that precise moment. Hasan picked his head up at this, finally something to break the boredom, and his eyes brightened considerably when he saw the familiar face of Draco Malfoy, and two boys who looked more like bodyguards than friends, on either side of him.

"You call that a spell?" Draco sneered, glancing at Ron's wand hovering over the rat with distaste. "And what is that? A rat? How fitting: hand-me-down robes, red hair and freckles. You must be a Weasley."

"Go away, Malfoy!" Ron yelled, though he quickly stowed his wand and rat away.

"No, you see, I actually want to talk to someone here."

"Who?" Ron asked challengingly, raising an eyebrow in such an amateur way that Hasan fought hard not to roll his eyes. At least Hermione had more brains. She looked to Hasan with curious eyes, wondering if this new boy was a friend or a foe.

"Hello, Hasan. I'm sorry we couldn't find you before now, but don't worry. We have room for you in our compartment."

"Who says he wants to leave with you?" Ron said, force wavering just a bit.

"Who wouldn't?" Draco then swept his eyes over Hermione and landed on Hasan. "You'll soon find that some witches and wizards are better than others." His eyes lingered on Weasley as he said 'others'. "Come on, I can't stand to be in a Weasel's presence any longer."

Hasan glanced at Draco's offered hand of friendship and resolved to start his plan.

"Of course." Hasan said evenly, somewhat amused as Ron gaped at him, while he grabbed his trunk and owl. Hermione was staring at him sadly, not sure what to do anymore. "If_ only_ there's one more spot for an extremely intelligent witch." Hasan knew he was laying it on thick, and that Ron was on the verge of a heart attack, but Hermione seemed too intelligent (and too dependent) to let go. Hasan knew this witch had potential, and it all started with friendliness at the beginning to gain a powerful ally in the future.

Draco didn't need to think twice, he only really wanted Hasan anyway. So what if he brought a friend along? He didn't even ask if she was pureblood in his happiness.

"Whatever you wish."*

Hermione's face lit up at not being forgotten, but then she looked at Ron and frowned as her guilt took over. She didn't want to be a hypocrite and abandon Ron, but then...Hasan smiled at her, and she remembered how nice the boy had been the other day. And Ron _had_ been incredibly rude by barging into their compartment. Really, Ron didn't belong with them anyway. But even as she followed Hasan out of the compartment, guilt was flooding her heart.

.oOo.

Ron was gaping. What the bloody hell had just happened? He had thought he had friends, or, er acquaintances at least. Leave it to Malfoy to take everything away from him just because his family was a bunch of blood-traitors. Ron didn't fully understand the prejudice, but he knew it was wrong. So why did they follow him? Why Malfoy of all people? (Not that he knew Draco at all). Perhaps he had been too assertive coming into their compartment. Maybe obnoxious even? Ron frowned as he began to wonder: Well why _wouldn't_ they go with Malfoy? At that moment, he decided on his own to be more courteous. Maybe if he had, they wouldn't have left quite so quickly...He unwrapped his squished turkey sandwich and ate sadly before a boy poked his head in and asked about his toad...

.oOo.

Meanwhile, Draco had sent his goons (introduced at Crabbe and Goyle) up ahead, so that he might get to chat with the two first.

"I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself properly." Draco said superciliously. "Draco Malfoy." He held his hand out for Hermione to shake, who did so carefully.

"Hermione Granger." she said quietly. Her eager attitude was somewhat dampened by her guilt, but in reality, Hasan much preferred this less hyper version. Malfoy brought her small hand up to kiss delicately, thinking he might as well do the whole nine yards.

"Granger...I'm afraid I haven't heard that name before." Draco turned his silver eyes to Hasan. "Is she a relative?"

"A muggleborn." Hasan said blandly, watching as Draco struggled for an inkling of what to do. Holy hell, he had just kissed, not just touched and talked to, but kissed a mudblood!

"A mudblood?" Draco echoed, unable to stop himself. Apparently, he was unable to stop the derogatory tone in which he said it, because Hermione was suddenly very nervous. Perhaps she should have stayed with Ron...She played with her fingers and wet her lips unconsciously.

Hasan knew how offensive 'mudblood' was, yet he didn't appear to be too concerned. It was the same thing with Voldemort, he reasoned. Words made people react a certain way, but words were entirely separated from the emotion. It was like dominoes, a game he played at the orphanage a lot when it rained. He supposed his 'heartlessness' was just another thing to mark him as weird.*

"What's a mudblood?" Hermione whispered to Hasan, her curiosity outlasting her instinctual offense.

"Mudblood is a word only the filth of the Wizarding World use, Hermione. Don't be too upset that Draco's not a thesaurus."

Filth? Filth! Malfoy's were many things but certainly not the scum of the Magical community! That lay with the mudbloods and the blood-traitors. Why? Well, he wasn't entirely sure. Still, he was angry, and while angry, he reminded himself he needed desperately to know Hasan...to please his dad. Actually, pleasing his dad would have been the answer to the former question. His next question: What on earth was a thesaurus? But he knew he had to appease Hasan somehow, so he quickly stuck a remorseful mask on his face and told Hermione in the nicest of terms:

"It's just a word, Hermione. I shouldn't have used it."

So, not a direct apology, but it was as close as anyone was bound to get! Besides, Hermione seemed to take his...explanation at face value.

"Oh, erm. That's okay?"

He turned to Hasan who was eyeing him speculatively.

"I never meant to insinuate you were filth, Malfoy. I simply stated a fact." Hasan observed tonelessly.

It was then that Malfoy had that bitter experience of half-satisfation and half-indignation that came from a half-assed apology. He then realized with a jolt that that was exactly what he had done to Hermione, but Malfoy's were Malfoy's, he wasn't about to apologize _again_. Still, it peeved him that Hasan was able to create these emotions in him, but when he looked up Hasan wasn't smug or complacent, he was just there. There existing and stating facts- just like he had said.

"Well, the compartment's this way," Draco said, leading them further down to a room on the left. Hasan followed, rather bored, but Hermione was a bundle of nerves. Draco slid open the door, ushered them inside to be met with,-

"Dray, who're _they_?" a pug-faced girl asked with obvious disgust.

"_My friends_." Draco stated, shooting the girl a glare that basically dared her to make another noise. "This is Hermione Granger-" Draco started with her first in order to get the whole blood thing out of the way. Predictably, Blaise Zabini, a black boy with catlike eyes, quirked an eyebrow at her name.

"Draco, she's not a pureblood. Why'd you bring her here?" All the pureblood families were related in some way, and Granger was certainly not on that list.

Draco fixed him with an icy Malfoy stare that made him bite the inside of his cheek.

"Blood has no effect on the mind, and _Hermione_ despite her birth, clearly has a brilliant mind." Draco emphasized her first name to indicate his approval and familiarity with her. Even if the others didn't like it, Draco was still the boss, and exceptions were quite common.

Hasan's jade eyes widened imperceptibly since he knew Malfoy was totally winging this. But why was he going out on a limb? Why not turn the girl out and say it was a mistake? Perhaps Malfoy really was desperate to spy on him through gaining his favor...or maybe Draco was just so impressionable he was changing.

Some of the other members of the group were also quite surprised at this. Pug-face was still licking her wounds by frowning at the ground, and Blaise appeared rather confused. Crabbe and Goyle didn't appear to be paying any attention, while the other two, a quiet boy with light brown hair and a strong jaw, and a seemingly gentle girl with soft blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair, were listening patiently.

"And him?" blue-eyes urged him along, while at the same time giving Hasan's long brown braid a curious glance.

"Hasan. We met at Diagon yesterday." Draco said, before sitting beside pug-face and indicating for Hasan to sit on the other side of him, next to the door. Hermione seemed lost for a moment as Hasan and Draco left her standing alone, before the blue-eyed girl offered the space beside her.

"What's his last name?" Blaise asked, seemingly under a compulsion charm to know everyone's blood status through their last name.

"I-" Draco paused and then frowned. He didn't want to be seen as an idiot, so more for self-defense than common courtesy he said, "Hasan _is_ here you know. You can ask him."

The other occupants of the compartment turned expectantly to the jade-eyed boy. Hasan knew that out of all of Hogwarts, these kids would immediately know what his last name meant. Then again, if Altair had really wanted secrecy, he would've changed Hasan's last name so that the envelope would be addressed to someone else. (Come to think of it, Hasan didn't know how the letters were addressed.) Or better yet, send him to Beauxbatons.

So having happily deduced there was no harm in telling these kids what would soon become common knowledge, he elucidated their oh-so-pressing curiosity.

"Hasan Castell."

* * *

**A/N-**

A/N-

*This is something I think Lucius would say, and since Draco emulates his father in the earlier books, I think it's fine if Draco says "As you wish."

**With Aspergers and adolescence comes a lot of apathy, as I have learned first-hand. A lot of times he might be sarcastic and really pessimistic, but he will smooth out soon.

_(I'm really sorry if Hermione seems OOC for a bit, but I think that since we get to hear her thoughts in this and not in the books, it changes the impression she makes. Also, she knows Hasan from Diagon Alley, and we can assume her mother was pumping her up with "Friend" garbage. This adds a whole other layer to how she views Hasan. No longer is she just independently making friends, now she has listened to her mother saying that this boy wants to be friends, and that can have a big effect on her confidence._

_I think Ron's a pretty decent guy when he's not blinded by envy, so there's not going to be too much Ron-bashing! But rest assured, Ron will not be a main character._

_As for Draco, he's pretty impressionable at a young age. Lucius basically brainwashed him, for we find out later Draco isn't half bad. He's not going to make a miraculous turnaround. But initially, he might do things or tolerate things just to get on Hasan's good side._

_Hopefully the OOCness will be gone when they grow up some. Really sorry if it bothers some of you! However, I'm trying to keep many of the Slytherins in character, and that means Blaise is extremely prejudice about blood status, and Theo is a bit of a loner. I like Tracey and Daphne though because they are hardly even mentioned in the books! Freedom!)_

Thanks for the pairings help! Believe it or not, I was going to do Hermione/Ron before you all stepped in! But as I'm planning the rest of this story I've come to a road block:

**Who should be involved in Hasan's life? (Please vote! and you can vote for multiple)**

**1) Severus**

**2) Minerva**

**3) Sirius**

**4) Remus**

Thank you!

Next Chapter: Sorting and Classes


	5. Sorting and Classes

**A/N- I know it's been a while, and sadly, it will only get longer from here. :(**

This story will indeed be **Harry/Luna, Hermione/Theo**, but I will be keeping with canon in that **Luna doesn't appear until CoS**. Please remember that they are eleven! No romance shall blossom for another year yet! (Sorry!)

So, without further ado, **Enjoy!**

* * *

**Return of Emerald**

**Chapter 5: Sorting and Classes**

"Hasan Castell."

As soon as the name left his lips, he was sure there would be much more commentary on blood this or family that. What he was _not_ expecting were several blank looks, interspersed between confused glances.

"Castell...?" Blaise repeated quietly for the group, glancing at the faces of his Slytherin friends as if searching for clues. Finally, the little pundit seemed to have racked his brains through his entire library full of extensive pureblood knowledge, for he gave up and just decided to ask the damning question: "Are you pureblood?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" strong-jaw muttered, rolling his eyes much to Hasan's amusement. "Blood doesn't dictate everything!" With this, he met Hermione's eyes steadily, before biting his lip and looking hastily away. Tracey caught the glance and stifled a smirk behind her hand. The exchange captured Draco and Pansy's attention at least, which was good he supposed, because Hasan wasn't entirely sure what to say.

He knew he was Harry Potter, and though Altair had most helpfully kept away any knowledge of Harry Potter _from _him, Hasan had indeed figured out some things on his own. If Voldemort (he insisted on saying his name inside his head at least), was so obsessed over blood purity like Altair had told him, then the Potter's were probably not pureblood. The imperio would have taken care of opposition if they were, but if they were not, it wouldn't be worth the hassle. This left the options of half-blood and muggleborn, and Hasan was pretty sure his parents weren't muggles. (For this would ask the question: Why had Voldemort gone after those particular muggles? Why not massacre the lot?) In addition, Hasan was pretty sure Draco wouldn't appreciate defending yet _another_ muggleborn.

"Half-blood." Hasan answered promptly, and then he realized he was an idiot: Altair Castell was a pureblood. Oh, if they just looked up the name! He thought rapidly and added, "I'm from France so we may have distant relatives in Britain under the same name?...Désolé, sorry."

He knew it was an unnecessary precaution, a bit of fine print that would probably cause even more suspicion (should they choose to pry), but now Hasan had a safety net: if they found out the Castell's were pureblood then they'd just think, _but oh, Hasan's from France..._Nothing like the prospect of international research to shake curious Slytherins from a search!

"Like Bulstrode." Pug-face cut in, "Not bad I suppose." she nodded reluctantly. Blaise still seemed putout, but otherwise didn't comment.

"I think it's only fair we know your names." Hasan said. Hermione nodded her agreement readily and Draco began roll-call.

"This is Pansy Parkinson." Draco said, indicating to Pug-face next to him. "That's Crabbe and Goyle, you have already met them, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott beside him (that was strong jaw) and finally Tracey Davis beside Hermione. We're such a large group that some of the girls had to go to the next room."

"And what group would that be?" Hermione asked, seeming to be more comfortable with asking questions with Tracey by her side, and Theo smiling from across.

"Well, we all expect to be sorted into Slytherin." Tracey informed her matter-of-factly. "It's, er, it's a house at Hogwarts."

Hermione flushed profusely, "I know, I read Hogwarts: A History."

"Wow, I haven't even cracked a book open yet." Theo said in admiration.

"Oh, well, I _was_ excited." Hermione admitted, a tinge of pink on her cheeks.

"Of course you were-" Pansy muttered, just barely restraining herself from tacking on 'Mudblood' for fear of offending Draco.

The rest of the train ride passed much in the same fashion: Theo and Tracey being nice. Pansy trying to get Draco's attention, and Hasan watching everyone closely. By the end of the ride, Hermione felt she had made a new friend. Hasan, on the other hand, was busy entertaining Draco with petty questions like "What is your owl's name?..._Why_ is that your owl's name?"

Draco was easy enough to keep occupied, his favorite subject was soon discovered: himself.

This was going to be much easier than he thought.

.oOo.

Hagrid watched as the last of them piled in the little boats. He tried suppressing a salty giant tear that was gathering in his eye, but it grew too heavy and dampened his large, wild beard. He was sure he would recognize Harry anywhere.

Those emerald eyes, Lily's eyes...they couldn't possibly remain hidden, nor ever be forgotten! The Daily Prophet had already come out with an article with Snape's proposed "Out-in-the-mountains" plan, and therefore the kids weren't _as_ crazy about searching for the Boy-Who-Lived amongst their ranks. Yet he did catch a few that continually looked about them, that Longbottom boy for one, he seemed to be searching for something rather intently...all Hagrid could do was smile, hold back tears and announce to the next generation of students that Hogwarts would now, and forever, be their home and family.

.oOo.

A tall, stern looking witch in rich green robes and a pointed green witch's hat met them at the entrance of the Great Hall. Her name was Professor Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and she had a very elegant air about her that Hasan immediately latched onto. As she explained to the first years the Opening Feast, the Sorting Ceremony they were soon to take part in, the house points, and the house cup, Hasan noticed her eyes rove over them keenly, yet half-heartedly, as if searching for something she knew to be gone. She nodded firmly before bursting open the double doors of the Great Hall...

Hermione stuck very close to Hasan, almost annoyingly so, who in turn was never more than three feet away from Draco (and certainly not from Hasan's doing). Nearby, Ron Weasley could be seen with a boy who introduced himself with "Hi, I'm Neville Longbottom. Have you seen my toad?" Ron sent a half-longing half-loathing glance their way before blinking, rather startled as a loud RRRRRIBBET! cut through the air.

Even Professor McGonagall looked startled for a moment before Neville cried,-

"TREVOR!" and tried desperately to catch the hopping toad. Most of the girls shrieked, and cringed back in terror, which in turn caused some of the occupants of the Great Hall, closest to the doors, to look outside in curiosity. Oh, those funny first years!

"Neville! Catch him!"

"He's over here! Eeeeek!"

"Neville!"

"Longbottom!"

By the time Neville had managed to grasp the poor toad with both of his hands, most of the Great Hall was talking about the strange boy named Neville and his funny toad named Trevor, making his cheeks flush form pink to scarlet. McGonagall sighed, giving Neville a sympathetic look with the words "Keep a good hold on him now," before leading the first years up the center of the hall, so that they could begin the Sorting.

Hasan gazed at the enchanted ceiling in awe, through the millions of floating candles, thinking how wonderful magic was. Apparently others did too as they goggled at it, and Professor McGonagall had to quickly inform them that it was enchanted to show the actual sky above Hogwarts before their chatter got too out of hand. As the kids came into view, whispers of Neville soon dissolved into gossip of the Boy-Who-Lived, and 'Did you see that Daily Prophet article?' 'Yeah, what a letdown.'

Despite knowing that the Wizarding World's savior was off fighting mountainous dragons and such, the rest of the school had more enthusiasm than ever in examining the fresh meat. Neville was easy to spot out as his face was still flushed, that and he was standing next to Ron Weasley with his flaming hair. It also didn't help that two kids in the crowd (Fred and George, Hasan's mind supplied) kept shouting things like "Ickle Ronnykins!" drawing even more attention to the flaming duo.

When the noise had quieted down some, an _ancient,_ weary man walked up to the front of the staff table, wearing sky blue, shimmering robes and a floppy blue hat. He reminded Hasan of a very _elderly _Gandalf, if there was such a thing, and he seemed to protrude wisdom and magic. He also had twinkling starry blue eyes resting behind a pair of half-moon spectacles that seemed to give him a grandfatherly glow. But Hasan knew better- he didn't need Altair's weird ability to be able to tell that this wizard was a force to be reckoned with...

Dumbledore said some artful nonsense, something about the third floor corridor being forbidden, and some other things about Harry Potter training in the mountains that Hasan didn't particularly care about. No, he was much more interested in the people sitting _behind_ Professor Dumbledore than Professor Dumbledore himself.

The first teacher to catch his interest was Hagrid, some part giant, he was sure, but only because he was so hard to miss and Hasan had seen him twice already- once in the Leaky Cauldron, once at the boats. He looked a bit distraught over something, and continually dabbed his leaking eyes with his cloth napkin.

Logically, the second Hasan's eyes sought out was Professor Quirrell, wearing a gaudy purple turban, probably called _amethyst_ to make him feel better. Quirrell was odd, and even from far away, Hasan knew that his father was probably right: this man was dark and most likely hiding something. Probably under an analogous turban...how funny...until their eyes met and Hasan received the tiniest yet sharpest of pinpricks to his forehead. Gods, it just felt so...painful! He made no movement, though, not hinting that anything was wrong, even as Quirrell turned his attention away from him, his mask did not fall. The pinpricks disappeared immediately and Hasan was left wondering why on earth he had reacted like that. _The scar_...He'd ponder it later, he decided as his gaze fell on the greasy-haired man beside the DADA professor.

This man had stern features too, yet was so unlike McGonagall (not that he had proof of that yet), that he couldn't help but bite his lip and frown. Greasy-Hair had a slightly hooked nose, sallow cheeks and thin lips, a gaunt figure overall, yet Hasan could tell his eyes were a glittering, obsidian black. He peered at Hasan with remarkable focus, and Hasan peered back-

"Oh, that's Severus Snape, my godfather." Draco drawled proudly. But just at that moment, Snape turned his entire head ever so fractionally towards the first years in general, and Hasan immediately snapped his attention back to the front. (Draco caught his eye and waved though, which was met by a barely palpable nod.)

Presently, Professor Dumbledore took a slight bow and students cheered as Professor McGonagall quickly slipped in his place. She held up an old, fraying black hat, probably older than Dumbledore, and declared it to be the Hogwarts Sorting Hat. Ron sighed out a relieved breath at this before glaring in the general direction of his twin brothers...he had been so scared, and it was just a hat! An ugly frown settled on his face and some of the kids even edged away from him.

McGonagall settled the artifact carefully on a low wooden stool ositioned at the front of the hall, and the room immediately became silent, buzzing almost in anticipation. Dumbledore couldn't remember a time when the room was quieter, but he supposed the reasoning was that Harry Potter hadn't been missing then. It was pretty obvious that they were all just interested in hearing the 'P's, but decided to be polite in general. Dead silence. And then the hat began to sing...

.oOo.

...The Hall erupted into loud applause as McGonagall yelled with a magically magnified voice, "Abbott, Hannah!"

The girl in question scampered to the stool, let the professor drop the hat on her head (and cover her eyes) before, amazingly, the hat called out,-

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Hasan heard, rather than saw, Draco smirk beside him, as the Hufflepuff table welcomed her eagerly. The pattern repeated itself: name, hat, house. And Hasan found himself quite interested as to how the hat did what it did, and where the hat would place _him_.

He wondered absently if his parents belonged to a particular house, and if Voldemort did as well. He figured that Voldemort was probably in Slytherin from all the blood-purity drivel, infused within the Slytherin wannabes. Hmm, that was food for thought.

"Bulstrode, Millicent!" McGonagall called, pulling a haglike witch from the crowd of firsties. So that's the half-blood Pansy was talking about, Hasan thought. She pulled the hat onto her own head, as her hands went to ball into fists in her lap.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The girl hopped down from the stool, practically threw the hat back on the stool, and went hastily off to the Slytherin table on the left side of the hall. Hasan watched as a few kids made room for her, the half-blood: apparently some Slytherins didn't care about blood status or they were just ignorant. Perhaps some were even kind. Hasan wasn't much for categorizing people: shoving them in a box, as he called it. And so, tried to withhold judgment of the house of snakes. He'd have an open mind when confronting the hat, yes, well easier said than done...

.oOo.

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips as she took in the name before her: Castell, Hasan. How odd! She couldn't recall a Castell since, goodness! 1965, Lucius Malfoy's year! She glanced at the list, just to make sure was reading correctly, for in all their time reviewing the list she had never once read that name...

But maybe, they were all so obsessed with Harry Potter that they had overlooked a student? Minerva fell into a pit of ashen guilt. They had all vowed not to treat the boy any differently when he got to Hogwarts, but it seemed as if they already had! How could she have missed_ this_ child? Wasn't he every bit as deserving as Potter? In all her time at Hogwarts, she had never once forgotten a name from the list! She hadn't noticed how long her inner musings had been going on until Albus cleared his throat loudly from the staff table.

By this time, however, all the students were curious about the holdup. They hadn't gotten to the P's yet, had they? Decidedly not, even Crabbe and Goyle knew their alphabet!

Minerva cleared her throat.

"Castell, Hasan!"

Severus' onyx eyes snapped to the crowd of children, eager to identify this puzzle piece of sorts. He guessed why Minerva had hesitated: She probably felt guilty about overlooking a child, and with her Gryffindor pride, had not once thought that the name wasn't there but a few weeks before... He was happy in a way though, because none of the other staff members ever realized how much lenience they had already given the Boy-Who-Lived. It was about time someone woke up and realized that all kids should be treated the same way! (He was such a hypocrite on this account, but chose not to dwell on it in the glory of the moment.)

From the huddled group of first years, a lean, handsome boy with rich brown hair in a thick braid down his right shoulder emerged. Oddly enough, he seemed to have been standing with his godson! Oh, Merlin! Could he never catch a break? Was Lucius prying too? Severus watched as the boy strode gracefully over to the stool, accepted the hat graciously from Minerva (whom had handed it to him, probably out of guilt), and seated himself primly.

Then, with the whole hall watching, Hasan dropped the hat onto his head, plunging his world in darkness.

"Oh, what do we have here?"

Hasan bit his lip, but otherwise relaxed with his hands holding the edges of the stool.

"You can speak?" Hasan wondered, finding it fascinating how the voice was speaking from _inside_ his mind.

"I much prefer to sing. I'm a song writer, you know. "the hat said cheerfully, "But it's my job, first and foremost, to send you kids where they need to be!"

Hasan wasn't sure how he felt having a hat dig inside his mind, but it wasn't like he was given a choice. The voice inside his head was quiet for a few seconds while it thought before saying,-

"Ah! This is a remarkable discovery indeed...Mr. Potter."

Hasan wasn't stupid enough to ask 'how do you know?' but he did ask if the hat would tell anyone. "Why would I?" the hat countered. "Technically you are, for all intents and purposes, Hasan Castell. You mind seems to separate the two, and as long as you continue to think of yourself that way, then that is who you are and have become."

"It's because I'm dreaming." Hasan explained. "If I wake up one day back in the orphanage, then I'll just be Harry."

Hasan thought he heard the hat sigh if hats could sigh.

"Hmm. A rather interesting notion, Mr. Castell. Logical enough to make a Ravenclaw proud, but your intent behind it...now that is Slytherin. Self-preservation, protection, deception, those are most Slytherin tactics indeed." the hat murmured. "You even hid it from your own father."

"He's not really my father." Hasan informed the hat. "He's more of a mentor. My real parents are dead." Hasan thought for a moment. "By the way, where were they sorted?"

"Well, your parents, Lily and James were both lions, but that shouldn't have any bearing on what you will become." the hat said confidently. "In fact, you know better than I that it's not on the outside, but what lies within...so better be-"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"...thank you..." Hasan thought.

He slipped the hat fluidly off his head, to stare at the silent hall before him. Everyone's eyes were peering at him curiously, but he wasn't shaken by the attention. Instead, he lithely alighted from the stool, and handed the sorting hat back to Professor McGonagall with a nod of thanks. The stunned witch accepted the proffered hat with an inscrutable expression on her visage. The child had been under the hat for nearly ten minutes! TEN MINUTES! It wasn't unheard of, certainly, but...goodness! The hall protruded deafening silence, but Hasan seemed to ignore it all. He made his way carefully over to the Slytherin table, and as he was walking, the applause seemed to grow from a single clap to a thunderous roar.

A thin boy, a year old than Hasan, made room for him at the table before shaking his hand with, "Hello, I'm Adrian Pucey."

"I call myself Hasan." he said, though he felt ridicules seeing as Professor McGonagall had already said it. A boy next to Adrian, about the same age, but with a large build and blank face introduced himself as Cassius Warrington, and Millicent Bulstrode, across the table looked at him curiously. Up close, the girl wasn't that bad to look at. She was no doubt strong, judging by her large arm muscles, but she had pretty black hair and a pleasant enough face. As the older students clambered to shake their new housemate's hand, Cassius asked,-

"Did you and the hat have a nice long tea party? You must have been under there for an hour!"

Hasan shrugged. "I'm not sure about an hour, but the hat was definitely talkative." It wasn't that he couldn't identify the jeering tone, but that he just chose to ignore it. Millicent seemed to respect him for this because she let a small smile brighten her face. It was an amazing transformation really. The four Slytherins chatted quietly, Tracey Davis joining soon enough and making it five, until Granger, Hermione was called to the front, and Hasan withdrew immediately from the conversation.

.oOo.

Hermione now was in a situation: she wanted to be in Gryffindor originally, because she knew Harry Potter fit the mold, but Harry Potter was not here! And so, Ravenclaw suited her best. But Hasan had just been sorted into Slytherin! She wanted to join him, but thinking back to the uncomfortable train ride, she knew she would never feel at home with her Slytherin peers.

She thought all this as she walked shakily up to the hat, placing it carefully on her head, and waited.

"Just place me where I belong! Wherever I belong!" Hermione chanted over and over to herself.

"Why, of course! I always do!" a cheerful old voice spoke in her mind.

It caught Hermione by surprise, even though she _had_ suspected something like a conversation with it. Still, having a foreign anything in your mind was not a usual experience.

"Hmm, you've got a brilliant mind, that much is clear...oh, potential, great potential, yes! _And_ a natural born leader."

"Leader?" Hermione repeated in disbelief. She had the lowest self-esteems in the world! Which was subsequently why she needed to impress others with her knowledge.

"Yes! You have very strong opinions, it's all in here...in your mind. But that doesn't mean you need to force your opinions on others...Ah! I see you want to follow Hasan and Tracey, but why? You're a leader, not a follower. I see that you agree. No, Slytherin is not where you will reach your full potential...Not even Ravenclaw...No, you can achieve so much more if you're in-

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat decreed.

The Gryffindor table, on the far right, exploded in applause as the brown-haired witch hopped happily off to join them. But she couldn't help but send a sheepish smile to Hasan, until, surprisingly, he smiled too. _Right, Hermione, you're a leader! A leader! Don't worry about what others think, Hasan obviously approves._ Her smile grew even more radiant as she sat with the lions, near Lavender Brown and the Weasley twins.

Hasan was also happy. Hermione Granger might be intelligent, but he didn't want to babysit her twenty-four seven. Hasan saw potential in her, but also knew she had to grow before she might be of any use to him...

The rest of the feast was _also_ rather uneventful. Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, and Hermione were sorted into Gryffindor (plus a few others), as Millie (as they called her), Tracey, Daphne, Pansy, Draco, Theo, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were sorted into Slytherin, making a little first year group near Hasan. It was the first time he had met many of the girls, and Hasan could tell that Slytherin guys and girls played in very different fields. These girls were cold and calculating for their age of eleven. Well, Tracey was alright, though he was sure that was a persona too, and Daphne seemed nice enough (only because she knew Malfoy really well and Hasan was his friend.)

The food was delicious, but he couldn't help shaking the feeling that someone was watching him very closely.

.oOo.

After a few days, Hasan felt rather settled in good old Hogwarts! Once he got over the owl deliveries in the morning, the rest of the magical culture including the ghosts didn't surprise him as much. The Bloody Baron didn't even move much from his own secret lair in the dungeons. Which wasn't much comfort since the Slytherin dorms were located in the dungeons. But on the bright side, they were simply lovely to live in, in that creepy 'death resides here' way...and he loved the green décor. It wasn't exactly emerald green, but it was still better than those noble scarlet and gold colors. As an added bonus, the snake was the Slytherin mascot! He thought of Tina often, and when he spoke of her to Malfoy, he was pretty sure Malfoy believed Tina to be a dog...it amused Hasan to no end.

On the first night, Professor Snape introduced himself to the first years. He had rather oily hair that fell to about his chin, and glinting black eyes that seemed to take in everything about him.

"...for the next seven years, this house will be your family. Many do not look kindly on Slytherins, and you will soon learn the benefits of unification. I expect you all to uphold this name proudly..."

Amazingly, his was the only voice in the room. He had that sort of aura about him that basically stifled any opposition. Hasan found this magical. At the end of the speech, Snape took leave of them with his cloak billowing behind him, and the prefects led the new snakes to their dorms. It was a shock really when they came upon a small hallway, from which jutted five separate rooms.

"Do the other houses have dorms like these?" Theo asked. The prefect blushed scarlet before snapping,

"How the hell should I know?"

Apparently they did. Hasan supposed it was because out of all of the houses, Slytherins had about as much trust as one could throw them, and with Crabbe and Goyle, well, that wasn't exactly far. Draco choose the door at the end of the hall facing the entrance, Crabbe and Goyle flanked him (doors facing across from one another), Blaise and Theo were on the other side of their rooms, and Hasan was at the very end, closes to the exit.

The interior of the chamber was admittedly much larger than the outside suggested (by the proximity of the doors.) The walls were cream-colored, with a black chair rail, and black wall trim in squares underneath. Under the chair rail, the walls were a pale sage green. A chest of drawers lay off to the side of the bed, the bed itself being a large four-poster with cream and green covers, and silver curtains to draw around oneself for privacy.

Hasan found his trunk at the foot of his bed, with Raven settled on top.

"Hey, girl." Hasan whispered, poking his fingers through the cage. Raven looked at him tiredly, before shutting her eyes again. "Must be tired." Hasan murmured. "I wonder if there's anywhere to keep her..."

He turned back to his trunk, lifted Raven's cage off of it, and cast engorgio to return it to it proper size. Hasan quickly got dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt and long gray pants, then head out to the bathrooms which they had passed.*

.oOo.

Severus Snape spent the next few days completing the Muted Sight potion. On Thursday, he went down to the Hog's Head inn and pub, and waited in his usual dark corner. It was nearly midnight, and he was thoroughly exhausted from dealing with all the dunderheads that made up the mass of Hogwarts' student body. He waited, contemplating what he would say to the man. Perhaps starting off with a friendly: _'Why the hell didn't you tell me?_' and then following it up with a _'How the hell is this laying low?_'

Thinking back to the sorting, he was rather surprised to observe Hasan's ease and indifference to the silence. He seemed very calm and collected...a very Slytherin trait. The boy was handsome, but when he glimpsed the boy's eyes, Merlin!

They were blank.

Oh, it wasn't that they were pitch black, or milky white, or that he was missing a pupil or had cataracts or anything, no, they were just...blank. He couldn't identify what about them threw him off, just that, they were too perfect, or unnatural, or simply too natural. It was all very concerning. Hasan Castell had the dullest pair of jade green eyes Snape had ever seen. Not that green was an altogether common color, but jade should certainly be uncommon, yes?

When he finally broke out of his thoughts, he noticed it was 12:20. He found that he wasn't really surprised. Well that settled it, Altair Castell was definitely involved. Snape trudged back to the castle, strode to his private office and almost froze as he saw a large brown owl on his desk. It blinked at him, holding out a leg with a little note attached to it. It had the usual anti-theft, disillusionment, anti-tamper, &c. spells on it, but Snape undid them easily with a wave of his wand. He took the letter from the owl, whom promptly flew out the window (a tiny one leading out to beyond the Great Lake), and sat in his desk chair to read it.

_"Severus,_

_I can live without the potion for a few months. It's too risky, Lucius spotted me in Diagon Alley and told his son, Draco I think, to keep watch. In my defense my hair was white...anyway, keep watch over my son, won't you?_

_Castell"_

Severus sighed and nearly growled. This! This letter proved just how little brains the man possessed. Luck, certainly, good ears, very, but putting all this information in a letter? Putting both of their names in a letter? Thinking a change in hair style would serve as adequate protection? Salazar, help the man!

So then,...how _had _he managed to raise a son without him knowing?

.oOo.

Professor McGonagall was sad to say the least. How had she failed two boys already? Poor Harry who was dead for all they knew- all because she didn't have enough Gryffindor courage to tell the headmaster 'No'- and Hasan Castell who she had managed to completely overlook! Well, never again! She licked her paw absently, waving her short little tail so that it hit the edges of her desk. It was always a great source of amusement for her when she got to play this particular trick on the firsties! She waited patiently as the children filed in. Ravenclaws and Slytherins, she believed, watching as they found a chair, chatted, and checked the door every few seconds. Comments like:

"McGonagall has a cat?"

"Is that Filches' cat?"

"Why is it watching us?"

Brought a smile to face, though in her cat form, her whiskers would twitch. Finally, the last pair of students, Draco Malfoy and Hasan Castell, no less, made it into the Transfiguration's classroom.

She drew herself up, ready to leap off the desk and transform in one fluid, feline movement, when a toneless, yet pleasant, voice rang out.

"Professor McGonagall? Is that you?"

It was Hasan Castell! Minerva leapt in the air as the children looked between her and Hasan alternatively. Within a second, the full grown woman people learned to love as Professor McGonagall had materialized in front of them!

"Correct, Mr. Castell! Ten points to Slytherin."

Draco gaped as she was known to favor her own house quite often. Perhaps she would prove to be alright.

"How did you know?" Draco whispered.

"I didn't know. I just asked for confirmation." Hasan replied with a shrug.

"And you have received it. Well done!" Minerva beamed.

Hasan felt it slightly odd that the woman was quick to please, despite her strict reputation, but he felt that this woman had a heart, and that presently, that heart was swamped with guilt. Over him.

After class, a rather boring one as she explained the basic laws of Transfiguration (like not being able to transfigure something into food), Hasan stayed behind. Draco gave him an odd look, but Hasan waved him on, saying that he'd be at lunch in a moment.

The Transfiguration's professor looked surprised at his behavior and made the usual inquiry of 'why?'

"Well, I can't help but notice that -"

Oh no! Was he going to call her out as he did about her cat? Did he detect her feelings of guilt and resolve to redeem herself? Wait, why was she nervous? It wasn't like she was doing anything wrong! She only gave him the points he deserved!

"-Transfiguration is a difficult subject."-(Minerva sighed out imperceptibly.)- "Would you be willing to help me?" Hasan asked, pleading with his jaded orbs. "I just feel so odd, being muggle raised in with the Slytherins. Everyone knows everything already." Hasan looked down at his feet as he fiddled with his fingers.

Oh the poor dear!

"Mr. Castell, I believe something can be arranged. I realize how hard it must be to just enter into the magical community, so if you have any problems, any, even if it has to do with quills or owls, please know that I will do all in my power to help."

The statement was sealed with a tilt of her chin, and Hasan couldn't have been happier.

"Well, thank you, Professor!" he chirped sweetly.

As he left, he imagined Minerva smiling warmly within herself, knowing she had done some good.

Noble Gryffindors.

.oOo.

(The Next Day.)***

"Ah! We've got Potions with the Slytherins!" Dean Thomas whined at breakfast.

"I've heard that Snape can be a real bastard." Ron grumbled as he shoveled cereal into his mouth. "Then again, Fred and George say a lot of things..."

"Oh, I don't know. We get to see Hasan again!" Hermione beamed like a puppy.

"But Hermione! You see him every day!" Ron said, piling more bacon onto his plate.

"Yes, but _you_ don't. He's actually very nice, just...a bit, awkward?"

"Look, I can only take one awkward kid and that's Neville!" Ron shouted callously with a disgusted wrinkle of his nose.

"Um, hi guys." Neville cleared his throat from behind Ron, whom promptly shut his mouth.

"Oh, Neville! How...nice, we were just discussing Potio-"

"Yeah, I heard what you were discussing." Neville told her dejectedly, before turning away and out the hall.

"Odd that one-"

"RONALD!"

Potions came soon enough however, with the Slytherins leading the way, and the lions looking for all the world like they'd been sentenced to life in Azkaban.

"Hello, Hermione." Hasan greeted her as she walked in with the unhappy red head.

"Hasan!" she cried, assaulting him with a hug.

"Salazar, it's like they never see each other." Draco muttered.

"Tell me about it," Ron said, before he realized he had just agreed with a Malfoy. He turned his back, snapping his jaw shut audibly. Draco rolled his eyes, _Weasley's..._

When Hasan and Hermione were finished their tiny reunion, they all took their seats on the respected sides of the room. Basically, it was a straight line cutting Gryffindor from Slytherin, with Hermione and Hasan joining the ranks of those brave souls on the border's edge. Draco sat next to Hasan, that stupid smirk on his face as Pansy glared envious daggers as Hasan. On the other side of the room, Neville had been forced to a border seat as well because he was Neville, and no one else wanted it.

"Watch this." Draco whispered giddily to Hasan as Snape made his grand entrance into the room, cloak floating behind him in a batlike fashion. "He's going to make that Longbottom boy wet himself."

Sure enough, after Snape's intimidating 'Welcome to Potions, you are going to fail' speech, he shot question after impossible question at Neville Longbottom.

"Tell me, Mr. Longbottom, what would I get if I added Powdered Root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

Hermione's hand shot up immediately, but Neville was on his own.

"I-I"

"Speak up, Mr. Longbottom!"

"I don't know,...sir." he added hastily.

"Let us try again." Snape sneered as he paced the front of the class. "Where would you look if, Merlin forbid, you need use of a Bezoar?

"D-don't know, sir." At first, his terror had been contagious, but now, a few giggles were poorly stifled. Hermione's arm shot ramrod straight, and she drew herself up in her chair. Snape ignored her. Hasan ignored her.

"And finally, what is the difference between the plants Monkshood and Wolfsbane? Let us hope third time's a charm."

Hasan's head immediately perked up at hearing that familiar phrase. It was quite common in the Lord of the Rings book, but he had yet to hear its use in everyday speech- if Snape was considered a good example of an average person's vocabulary.

This time, Hermione was on her feet before Ron tugged her down with a harsh whisper. Hermione glared at him with a hmf, before turning her bushy hair in his face.

"I-I don't know, sir...but um, I think Hermione does." Neville said tentatively, looking at Hermione in horror (as she was now sitting down), causing Draco to smirk with glee. Snape snapped his head so fast towards Hermione that she actually blinked in surprise.

"I think not! For your information, Mr. Longbottom, the Powdered Root of Asphodel and Wormwood would make the Draught of Living Death, a very powerful sleeping potion. The Bezoar is a _stone_, taken from the stomach of a goat and will be a cure for most poisons. As for the third, they are the exact same plant which also goes by the name of Aconite."**

While Altair had never formally trained Hasan in potions (probably another way of keeping Hasan from finding out about his magic seeing condition and thereby the truth- idiot logic really,) even Hasan knew these three answers.

His previous depravation of knowledge made Hasan do some serious pre-reading during his last month of summer, and the first answer was found in the middle chapter. The second question about the bezoar wasn't necessarily a potions question, as it was also basic survivalist information. As for the third, that was in the beginning of his A-Z potion supplies book. (Something he bought for enrichment.)

"Well, why aren't you copying that all down?" Snape bellowed, causing an immediate search for quills, ink, and parchment. "And thirty-three points from Gryffindor for inadequate preparation!"

Hasan glanced at Draco as he was one of the only daring ones not moving, but Draco murmured that he had known all the answers already. Hasan did too, but he also knew it would draw too much attention to them both if they were both sitting still. So Hasan took out his writing supplies and made a short-hand note complete with equal signs and arrows. Draco's lips quirked up in amusement.

The rest of the lesson was rather uneventful. They went over potion's supplies and equipment, as well as the basic properties of different cauldrons, and how simple directions like mince and cut should be taken very seriously. Hasan found this all very interesting, as did Hermione, he could tell, but he was almost positive that Neville hadn't heard a word. The class was dismissed soon enough.

Neville was the first one out.

.oOo.

One week later brought the Slytherins and Gryffindors back together again, in their first flying lesson of the year. The children spilled out onto the field that was already laden with twenty beat-up brooms, ten for each row. The houses naturally faced each other, sneering and smirking and glaring back defiantly. Hasan and Draco were parallel with Hermione and Neville, though it was Ron who captured the Malfoy heir's attention. Ron, tactful as ever, was glaring so heatedly at the Slytherins that his face was turning red.

Draco nudged Hasan's elbow and snickered, but Hasan was more interested in the nervous boy who had lost his toad on the very first day. It seemed that sometime during the instructions 'don't fly,' Neville Longbottom had risen rapidly into the air, with his hand grasping desperately at the broom. The poor boy's face was close to tears as he flailed around helplessly to the now unhidden snickers. At then he began to fall. Madam Hooch quickly cast a cushioning charm, but not before Neville's wrist hit the ground with an audible crack.

"LONGBOTTOM!" Madam Hooch cried. "To the infirmary with you." She walked to poor boy back herself (when no one wanted to volunteer) with strict instructions not to disobey her this time. Once she was out of sight, however, Draco grinned and snatched up a small glinting object in the grass.

"Hey! That's a remembrall!" a girl screamed.

"Wait, that's Neville's you can't touch it!" Ron growled. "Give it back!"

Draco cocked his head to the side.

"Really? Who's going to make me?" Draco sneered, hopping onto a broom and whizzing upwards with ease.

Hasan thought this all incredibly juvenile as far as instigations went, but Ron was on his broom in seconds.

"Ronald!" Hermione pleaded from the ground, but he ignored her. Soon the two boys were face to face in the air, Ron having had practice before with his brothers. What an idiot! Hermione thought.

"Give it here, Malfoy!" Ron demanded, holding a hand out and causing his broom to quake under him.

"Hm, I suppose I will." Draco smirked, tossing it behind him. It took Weasley a few seconds to react, but he chased the falling object with passion!

"Whoa!" Lavender Brown oohed.

The ball was nearing the ground, Ron was fast behind it, Draco had already landed safely as if he had never gotten up in the first place, the grass, the ground, feet, inches.

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

CRACK!

Ron's shoulder connected with the hard packed dirt with a sickening crack, the remembrall landing softly with a little thud. What the hell? It had a _protection charm_ on it? Ron's eyes shut in agony as he clutched his shoulder with his good arm.

"Ronald Weasley! What were you thinking? You could've been killed!" Madam Hooch screamed as she ran onto the field.

"Malfoy! He-" Lavender protested.

"I don't want to hear it! I told you _all _specifically _not_ to fly!"

"But Malfoy!"

"That is enough, Miss Brown! Ten points from Gryffindor for not being able to follow simple instructions!"

As Madam Hooch led the injured Weasley away, Hermione wiped away a tear. She just felt so guilty...when she was in ordinary school, she would always stand up for people, but then...she hadn't any friends in ordinary school either. She was so conflicted: Should she have spoken up? But the rational side of her brain told her that Lavender had spoken out and it did no good. And besides, Ron shouldn't really have...

She felt a hand at her back, and she turned to find Hasan smiling slightly at her. His jade green eyes soothed the conflict just a bit as he gave her a hug.

"Don't feel too bad Hermione." he said. "Now he knows not to be rash. It is better he learns now than later."

Hermione nodded, pulling away from the brown haired boy. She didn't know why, but the comment felt so divine, heartless yes, but it made sense. It would help Ron in the long run, right? Still, it just sounded so _wrong_ coming from a child's mouth, as if he knew what was right and wrong just like an adult. She was affronted and in awe all at once. Just then, Draco popped up beside Hasan, a large grin cracked over his pale face.

"Did you _see _that?" he nearly bounced in joy, "A broken shoulder _and_ points from Gryffindor!"

Pansy was giggling hysterically with her group of Slytherin girls, even Tracey, who was probably only there for peer pressure than anything else was following along, stifling laughs behind her hand. Draco himself was doubled over, laughing as Hasan looked on stoically.

"I'm afraid my vision was hindered by an ignoramus." Hasan said wryly, "I was gagging at the infantile tête-à-tête."

Hermione was the only one who seemed to understand the entire line, and was smiling pitifully through her tears.

"_What?_" Draco asked dumbfounded. Even though the language was extremely unusual (he wouldn't admit to _advanced_) the tone was unmistakable. (Which was saying something because Hasan was usually toneless, unless he put forth effort.)

"I think he called you an idiot." Theo piped up helpfully, respect reverberating in his voice.

"And childish!" Seamus was laughing. "Even I know what an infant is!"

Draco glared at them to back off, but was startled at the sudden hand on his shoulder.

"Let me show you how's it's done." Hasan smiled gently with a tilt of his head. Draco froze.

"Some people prefer to target pressure points." Hasan whispered, pressing softly behind his collar bone. Draco stiffened under him, trying his hardest not to let it show.

Everyone was watching now, wondering what on earth was going to happen between the two Slytherins.

"Others use brute force." Hasan said lightly, adding a smidgeon more pressure. Altair had made sure his son was well advanced in combat of any sort, and Hasan was thankful for it now.

Draco didn't react at first; he was too regal, too dignified to squeal or retreat, but then he clenched his jaws, and sought out Hasan's eyes for indications of play. He was horrified at what he saw. Cold jade eyes stared evenly back at him, those of murderer, or his father after missions when he was just a child. Draco's face paled further, turning from milky to chalk to ghostly white... "But speed always adds a factor."

Hasan could hear footsteps echoing off the castle stones and knew he had to play this just right.

"Three...two..." His lips moved without motion and his words were carried without sound.

Hermione let out a gasp, but couldn't seem to look away, hands hiding all but her eyes.

"One."

Draco jerked backwards as Hasan leapt lithely away.

"What the _HELL!_" Draco screeched, rubbing at his delicately bruised shoulder.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Madam Hooch cried, affronted, entering purposely back onto the field. "Such language! Ten points from Slytherin and a detention to you!"

Draco's mouth hung open in outrage, before snapping shut as he gazed warily at Hasan.

The boy's face was back to blank. Jade eyes dead as ever. No remorse, no joy, not _anything_.

Was his father's approval really worth this much? Could he even get close to such a monster? To such a machine? To such a doll? All to create an even more superficial friendship than what was already established?

No, that would simply be a waste of time. It was not for his father that he was doing this, but for himself. And so _help him_ if he wasn't going to make Hasan Castell his friend.

* * *

**A/N-**

_(*Slytherins seem to enjoy their privacy, and this is a magic school after all, so I think there'll be a bathroom before each set of dormitories (which means there'll be 14). __**This is fanfiction so anything you recognize is NOT MINE. All rights go to the illustrious JKR! __***Also, I know the order of the classes and I know I royally messed with canon for this chapter, but I don't think it really matters.)_

**Whew! 15 pages! I'm sorry it's not as creative as I'd hoped, but some things just need to be done before the plot gets rolling!**

**What did you think of Draco? PLEASE REVIEW!**

**_Next Chapter: Dumbledore's Predicament_**

**_(be excited, this one's good!)_**


	6. Dumbledore's Predicament

**A/N-** It's finally here! I hope you enjoy because I absolutely love this chapter! Also, I hope you have enough time to review at the end because it's my **Birthday!** On that note, thanks again for the lovely comments, and there's a **VOTE** at the end. I'd really appreciate it if you'd participate as it'll help me in creating more for you all!

(By the by, would anyone be interested in **beta-ing** for this story? Let me know in a review!)

* * *

**Return of Emerald**

**Chapter 6: Dumbledore's Predicament**

"Hermione, I'm telling you! That dog was guarding a door!" Ron insisted. He had just arrived at the Gryffindor table, and was already begging for Hermione's curiosity to outweigh her morals.

"That's no excuse for a detention, Ronald! Professor Dumbledore said not to go anywhere _near_ the third floor corridor, let alone go into the locked room! You're lucky Filch only caught you as you were heading_ out!_" Hermione whispered harshly with a cold glare. She knew that Ron had been fooling around the forbidden corridor the other day, probably so he could appear cool in front of all his friends (cough, Neville, cough). So it was quite natural when he landed himself a detention...with Draco (Ron's nemesis), out into the forbidden forest. Well, see if she was going to be a sympathetic pair of ears! The prat deserved it.

"Oh come on, Hermione," Ron whined, "what could a three-headed dog have been guarding?"

"I don't know! Stop thinking about it!" Hermione snapped angrily, slamming down her fork.

"Hey guys." Neville shuffled in, seating himself across from Ron. "What are you talking about?"

Neville was still extremely awkward, but had managed to warm up to the two bickering Gryffindors. Sometimes he fancied he was the only bridge between the two, or that he was just a buffer to stop them from eating each other's heads off.

"Ron got a detention with Draco." Hermione hissed.

"Oh. That seems scary." Neville said. "What for?"

"Snooping around where he didn't belong-" "Finding a dog guarding a trapdoor-" The two said at the same time.

"That's cool..." said Neville carefully, not having heard anything, "So what's it guarding?"

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh, "Honestly, Neville! He wasn't supposed to be there in the first place!"

Neville shuffled his feet beneath the table before sipping his pumpkin juice.

"Aw, don't be too hard on him, Hermione." Ron whined. Hermione silenced him with a glare, and made to get up. It was only the last week of September, honestly! How had he managed to get a detention this early on? Boys and their recklessness...

She wasn't even sure how Neville and he had become friends unless they had bonded when they were both stuck in the Hospital Wing, bored as Hell. So really, they were only together because of their foolishness during their first broom lessen! How sad. With a frustrated huff, she strode to the library, ready to take her mind off Ron with a bit of studying.

.oOo.

(Near Midnight.)

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had a bit of a problem on his hands. First and foremost: Harry Potter. It wasn't that he was _only_ a manipulative old codger, but he was a sad old man that felt he had lost his prized possession. But that didn't necessarily mean Albus did _not_ care for the boy. No, in fact, ever since...well, ever since Ariana, Albus had been desperate for ways to atone. He had never had children, yet he felt as if he had lost one.

But he could hardly go face the Wizarding World and say "I've lost your savior. Forgive me, I believed love was stronger than this." No. Severus' plan was in use at the current time: pretend the boy was off training in the mountains...but search parties had already gone and failed, and people were getting worried. The thing about people was that they needed to _know_ everything was going to be alright.

You see, Albus did have another solution. He alone knew the full prophecy and it could have referred to two boys. Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom. Scrying didn't help. The tracking charm was absolutely dead...so what else could he do? Albus had been paying very close attention indeed to Mr. Longbottom. So far, the boy had managed to receive a broken wrist from failing to heed basic instructions. He was abysmal in potions. Was compared to a squib in Transfiguration.

But the boy had a knack for Herbology! _Thank Merlin!_ There were such things are poisonous plants! Neville Longbottom could save the world after all! (But if Albus was honest with himself, he doubted that Tom Riddle would disappear after taking a whiff of some fatal flower.) Yes, Dumbledore would have to raise him, shape him up, and train the boy to be his- he meant- the _world's _savior. It also helped that the Weasley boy had shown a liking for him, for the Weasley's were some of his top supporters! The plan seemed perfect: Weasley's, Prophecy, desperate for attention...and Gryffindor.

Could he imagine a Slytherin being the Boy-Who-Lived?

Albus popped a lemon drop in his mouth and chuckled. In a few hours he would call the others up and tell them of his ingenious plan...

"Albus, you can't possibly do a bait and switch!" Poppy cried. "You'll get the poor boy's hopes up!"

"Poppy, I see no other alternative!"

"Perhaps actually looking for the Potter boy would be below us?" Snape leered icily.

"I agree with Severus!" Minerva called, much to Snape's irritation. "He's still out there! I'm not about to fail that boy a second time!"

Currently, the same crew of Severus, Minerva, Poppy, and Pomona were huddled in the headmaster's office, a mere quarter of an hour before their first classes of the year. Dumbledore didn't beat around the bush as much as he simply set it on fire.

"Minerva, I am truly sorry I didn't listen to you, before, but right now, the Wizarding World needs a face of the Light!" he insisted.

"You-Know-Who is _dead_!" Poppy yelled.

"If only." Snape muttered to himself.

"Well, the boy does show a great affinity for Herbology." Pomona ventured.

"Are we talking about the same Longbottom?" Snape thundered. "I don't believe he has an affinity for _anything_ but getting himself and others injured!"

"I agree, the boy means well, but he can't keep up with the rest of the class. I've had to tutor him three times already and he's still behind." Minerva sighed. "I wish the solution were as easy as this, but the boy's comparable to a squib. His grandmother practically begged me to show her the Hogwarts book to prove he had some magic in him! Imagine, if we let the world believe one thing, Augusta Longbottom will be higher than the moon. It's simply not right, Albus. It's a farce and you're playing with his life!"

"It's also a ploy for time." Severus said. "Which would actually _matter_ if we looked for the damn boy."

"Alright, Severus, you've made your point. We'll resume searching sometime this summer." Albus said wearily.

"You don't actually the think the boy can be found, do you?" Poppy asked. "The chances of a boy, abandoned at that age still being alive are extremely slim!"

"He's managed to survive the killing curse." Albus pointed out.

"Yes, because of love and blood protection!" Snape sneered, "Which, Minerva has already pointed out, is _not functioning_! We can't wait until the summer, Albus!"

"Well, what would you have me do? We need Mr. Longbottom to believe he is the chosen one so that everyone else does too. We can't have our people searching on the side because that would upset the whole-"

"Illusion!" Minerva screeched. "Merlin, Albus! Just think about the boy for once! Don't let him believe that he's the Boy-Who-Lived. Tell him he needs to play a part! Don't make him believe!"

"I can hardly control what he believes." Dumbledore said defiantly. "But I'll try my best to make sure it doesn't go to his head too fast."

"Albus!"

"Fine! I'll tell him exactly what his part is! Satisfied?"

Minerva nodded stiffly.

.oOo.

Neville Longbottom was never much of anything. He was shy, awkward, barely magical, and injured himself fairly often. He was behind in most if not all of his classes, which was saying something as it was only October, and he had managed, somehow, to make enemies of at least ten people in his year alone.

Even his toad ran away from him.

So it was with great trepidation that Neville walked to the headmaster's office now.

"Cockroach clusters." he said shakily and the gargoyle slid away from the staircase. It took nearly as much strength to climb the fifty stairs as it did to raise his arm and knock.

"Enter!"

The door opened silently, revealing a trembling Neville in its wake. Albus was situated in a high-backed chair behind his rather large desk, and he indicated for him to sit with a gracious wave of his hand.

"H-hello Pr-fessor Dumbledore."

"Good morning, Neville."

Neville? When had the headmaster, or any teacher for that matter, start calling him 'Neville'?

"Er..."

"Come, sit, sit down! Lemon drop?" Albus asked, proffering a little blue bowl.

"Um, no thanks."

Neville fidgeted in his chair, worried to the point of sickness. Why was he here? Had he done something wrong? Had one of the kids complained about him? Did someone frame him?

"All well." Albus gave himself a candy and folded his hands on the desk. "Neville, I'm truly sorry I haven't gotten to speak with you before." Albus said with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "But we've been so busy looking for the Boy-Who-Lived..." he paused here and gazed at Neville pointedly.

"Oh, er, yeah, I've read the Daily Prophet and all." Neville mumbled, completely confused. Where was the headmaster going with this? Was it small talk? Did the headmaster meet with all of his students? Even so, Neville felt dejected: People were out searching for the Boy-Who-Lived, millions caring for this one boy, while he, Neville, was largely ignored, and despised for being clumsy, inadequate, forgetful, accident prone..."Er, sir, why am I here?" he ventured when all Albus did was smile fondly through his half-moon spectacles. He wasn't that close with the headmaster, let alone with anyone, and it was getting all a bit too awkward for him.

"I'm glad you asked Neville, my boy. The Daily Prophet is a lie."

"What-?"

"The Boy-Who-Lived is gone for good. He's not out training in the mountains or wherever they say he's training now. He's been missing since July, when we first sent his Hogwarts letter."

"But, um, why are you telling me this...sir?"

"Call me 'Albus'," Albus said pleasantly. Gaining trust started with names, and he was going to need a lot of trust to pull this off. Neville looked at him oddly, torn between disbelief and confusion. He wanted recognition so badly, but this was all too suspicious.

"Er-"

"Yes, as I was saying, Harry Potter is gone. There is little hope of ever finding him and that's assuming he isn't already dead."- Neville gulped-"But do you know why he was targeted as a baby? Why he was dubbed the World's savior?"

Neville shook his head.

"Because of a prophecy."

"A prophecy?" Neville echoed.

"Yes. It foretold of a boy born as the seventh month dies..." He waited as he watched the gears turn in the boy's face. "You, my boy, were the second child the prophecy referred to."

"B-but I can't save a thing! Even my toad ran away from me! People tease me! I-I don't have much magic!"

"No, Neville, my boy." Albus face darkened as grief flooded through his voice. "That is where you come in. You were not _'marked as his equal'_ as the prophecy goes, but you will be able to _represent_ the Light. Step up and fill in, giving hope as the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"B-but I'm not." Neville stammered.

"No...no, you're not. But the world needs a savior, Neville. They need a face."

_So he just wants to use me. He doesn't care. He's just using you. They're all just using you. It's all a big practical joke, comparing you to a deity and hailed as a dead man when you're just really plain old Neville Longbottom... _

"So I'm just a replacement?" Neville whispered hoarsely.

Albus frowned, the boy wasn't supposed to act like this! He was supposed to be happy! Proud even at the chance to be the Boy-Who-Lived.

"No, Neville, my boy. You will be named the Boy-Who-Lived. The prophecy has no bearings anymore with Harry Potter gone. People are going to look to you for advice! Why your grandmother was over the moon when we told her!"

Neville blanched.

"You told my _grandmother_!"

"Yes, and she was honored to be able to say her own grandson is the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"But I'm not!" Neville protested weakly.

"We'll give you some time to adjust yourself to it, but just think: wouldn't your parents be so proud if their son was the one to destroy Voldemort once and for all?"

"I wouldn't know, would I?" Neville said blankly, and asked to be excused.

.oOo.

Halloween was finally upon them, and the Great Hall had been adorned with orange and black streamers, and many animated bats that flew past on unsuspecting students.

Hasan couldn't believe it- it seemed like just yesterday he was heading off to Hogwarts and now, they were two months into the semester! Hasan, himself, was doing fairly well in all his classes. Altair's vigorous preparation had a hand in it, as did Professor McGonagall's offer to teach him privately after class. He wasn't entirely sure why the professor had warmed up to him, but he knew he liked her, and so took her up on it. Most of the spells Hasan already knew, but then the Transfiguration's teacher mentioned something in passing that caught Hasan's interest: Animagi.

When he asked about it, she had told him it was near impossible to become an Animagis at his age- that it required great skill, power, and a whole lot of paperwork. But Hasan still remembered that first class, when she had changed from a tabby cat to witch in a fluid movement, eliciting oohs and ahhs from the crowd. Now that he knew the name of it, however, he simply mentioned it to Hermione whom had researched it herself out of pure curiosity. She intended to give him a briefing on it tomorrow.

Speaking of Gryffindors, Neville Longbottom's reputation preceded him. Brainless, forgetful, clumsy, awkward, squib...toad lover. He seemed nervous even around his fellow Gryffindors, though he had gotten considerably closer to Ron after their joint recovery in the Hospital Wing. Still, he was clearly marked as an oddball and kids teased him whenever they could. Draco didn't for fear of offending Hasan (again), but Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and even some members of his own house, (embarrassed at his ability to nearly empty the Gryffindor hourglass every time he stepped into the Potion's Classroom), were more than enough, sending him notes or whispering his name down the table or in the classroom, just to annoy him. It was incredible really, how most of the teachers seemed oblivious to this. Even McGonagall with her kindness towards Hasan, a Slytherin, didn't have an inkling of how bad it was. (For clearly they knew something was going on.)

In fact, Hasan was nearly sure he had seen Neville running past, tears flying off his face, to the girl's bathroom...

Hasan only remembered it because he had had a conversation with himself before. It went something like:

Why the girl's bathroom?

_Because it's abandoned._

Why is it abandoned?

_...Moaning Myrtle._

All the girls quickly learned that if they needed to go, they'd better find the stairs quick! So Hasan just shrugged and moved on with his life, never knowing that the next few seconds would make this fact very important indeed.

.oOo.

The doors sprung open as a deranged Quirrell fell through it. His amethyst turban was on slightly messier than usual, and on his face was a palpable sheen of sweat. At the staff table, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape had already jumped to their feet.

"TROLL! TROLL IN THE HALL! TROLL ON THE LOOSE!"

"Troll?"

"What?"

"Fuck!"

The students began to chat loudly as the three teachers, plus Poppy, bustled over to the DADA professor. They helped him up before Poppy led him away.

"A troll!" Draco exclaimed. "Those things are massive! How could one of them get in here?"

"It was let in." Hasan said simply, ignoring the gasps around him. Trolls were notorious for being violent and stupid- an altogether troublesome combination. Whoever had willingly let a troll loose in the school was most definitely trying to cause some real destruction...or distraction.

"Maybe it was a prank?" Millie asked hopefully, but her thick brows worried dreadfully, belying her fear.

"As long as we're all here in the Hall," Tracey consoled her, "we'll be safe. See, Professor Snape is taking care of it." Indeed, the three teachers had just left the Hall in search of the beast. Yet Hasan had a decidedly bad feeling about this. What if someone who didn't know about the troll was still outside the hall? Wait, Neville! Hasan immediately sought out the awkward Gryffindor, but where he should have been sitting, a panicking Hermione was in his place. Suddenly, her brown eyes snapped to his, and Hasan gave a terse nod. He watched as the lioness murmured some excuse to Ron, before walking discreetly over to him. She visited so often that no one thought twice about it.

"Neville!" Hermione whispered desperately as soon as she was next to Hasan. "He was crying earlier! Oh! He's still out there!"

Most of the Slytherins ignored her, since she was, oddly enough, a regular at the table, but Draco Malfoy was not among them.

"You think the troll-?" Draco asked. Hermione nodded vigorously. "Oh this is bad, even if it is Longbottom."

Hasan nodded. "I know where he is. We need to be quick though."

"You're going?" Draco repeated dubiously. "This is a TROLL."

"Yes, so are you coming or not?" Hasan asked curiously as he extracted himself from the bench. It seemed he didn't even process Draco's reluctance, but really, Hasan just chose to ignore it. Hermione looked at Draco with wide, innocent eyes.

"Yes, alright." Draco agreed stiffly, and followed the two out of the room. Damn Granger and her pretty eyes.

"Wait! We're headed towards Moaning Myrtle's loo!" Hermione exclaimed as they raced down the hall to the distant sounds of thudding.

"Yes, and abandoned too. I must say Neville does know how to use to his resources." Draco drawled, hoping his inadvertent compliment would make Hasan feel more comfortable. But all he said was.-

"About time you figured that out." with that damning indifference! Uh! It infuriated Draco to no end- but wait...did he want Hasan's praise? Well wasn't that just the silliest thing you've ever heard! A Malfoy needing approval, from a half-blood no less! Ha!

But his laugh sounded hollow in his own mind.

As they reached the bathroom, the strong stench of Troll filled their noses.

"That's vile!" Hermione cried, whipping out her wand. She performed a quick bubblehead charm on the three of them (something she read about in her Animagi exploration as an alternative to breathing underwater,) much to Hasan and Draco's appreciation.

"Merlin, Hermione, what would we do without you?" Hasan joked.

Intrigued by the new voice, the Troll clambered around to face them, giving the trio a perfect view of its being. It was huge, with yellow nails, crooked teeth, two beady eyes, and a menacing looking club.

"Delightful." Draco sneered.

"Yeah, a real beauty." Hasan muttered, hand clenching around his wand.

"H-hermione? I-is that you?" Neville's trembling voice came from behind a locked stall that's door was badly dented.

"Yes, Hermione's here with Draco and I," Hasan told him. "Don't worry, this'll be over in a moment." The Troll raised its club in challenge, the three began the fight with relish.

"Stupefy!" Hermione yelled.

"Rictumsempra!" Hasan cried. The stunner hit the Troll squarely in the face, but it recovered a second later only to be hit with Hasan's tickling curse. The poor oaf twitched as its nerves were attacked cruelly, banging into more stalls, smashing a mirror, and putting holes in the ground.

"Locomotor Mortis!" Draco screamed, and the trolls legs instantly snapped shut as the tickling curse wore off.

"Petrificus Totalus!" he quickly amended when the troll began to beat the ground with his fists, sending panels of tile everywhere.

Hermione looked between the two, impressed but also worried. They had basically destroyed the bathroom (that no one used anyway)!

Hasan was also surprised at Malfoy's quick thinking, but not of the spell since he knew that the boy had a private tutor. The tickling curse probably did more harm than good, in hindsight, but Hasan was glad that someone was there to watch his back when he made mistakes. He grinned over at Draco, who had regained his smug composure, just when the troll lifted its heavy self from the floor. It didn't appear extremely damaged, just tired and absolutely furious. It released a deafening roar, sending Neville into a fit of whimpers, and unfortunately, attracting the troll's attention. Stupid yes, but strong enough to pull the stall door off its hinges to reveal a badly shaking Neville Longbottom. Tear tracks wear clear on his red face, his eyes darting to meet Hasan's, and then something changed. He stood up firmly, grabbed his wand, and opened his mouth as the troll's club descended.

"PROTEGO!" four voices shouted in unison as the massive beast was blasted off its disgusting feet, and into the far wall with a sickening crack. There was a slowly trickling wound from its head, the club fell between its numb fingers.

The kids stared at each other, then at the troll, and then at the desecrated bathroom in horror. Even Myrtle poked her head out of the toilet, just to release a low moan and dive back in. Neville gingerly exited the stall, wiping the tears from his face as he did so, and offered a tentative smile to his saviors.

And then they heard a clap from the doorway.

.oOo.

"That was quite a feat." Dumbledore applauded with a twinkle in his light blue eyes. "Not many first years could have taken on a mountain troll and won!"

Yet his colleagues didn't seem to share this view. Severus looked downright furious as did Minerva as they glared daggers at the destructed bathroom.

"Oh my goodness!" Minerva breathed. Her eyes travelled across the room, from the troll, to the destruction, and then to the children in awe. "What are you four not doing at the Halloween feast?"

Hasan felt Hermione stiffen beside him and knew that Neville was most likely making himself as inconspicuous as possible. Draco however wasn't cowed and stood defiantly with Hasan, arms crossed in front of his chest, as if to say, 'Well what the bloody hell was the _troll_ doing in Hogwarts?'

"Hello Professor McGonagall." Hasan said politely, stowing his wand nonchalantly in his robe pocket. "Isn't the smell awful?"

"Simply dreadful." Draco muttered.

"Well?" Minerva demanded, casting an air freshening charm, much to everyone's relief.

"I'd like to know as well, why two of my _snakes _ended up in the girl's bathroom." Snape hissed.

Hasan thought rapidly. Was it wrong of them to go after Neville? Technically, there was no wrong. Could it be that the teachers were simply protective of their charges? He studied their faces: Minerva's was chalky white, Severus' was angry, and Albus Dumbledore...he had that glint in his eye that Hasan didn't quite like. What did Dumbledore know that Hasan didn't?

"Well you see, sir." Draco said, "We knew there was a troll on the loose and Hasan noticed that Longbottom wasn't in his seat."

"And you deduced that Neville was in need of a little aid? Bravo!" Dumbledore cried, clapping his hands again. He was a little disappointed not to see Ron Weasley among them, for he desperately wished for Neville to associate with the family, but he supposed that the muggleborn, Granger- Hermione (he thought her name was)- would have to do. He wondered how the miniature Lucius was involved, but figured that the other Slytherin came because of Hermione. Merlin knew how often the bushy-haired witch was seen talking to the boy!

"Albus, this is hardly time to be congratulating-" Snape started.

"Well why not? The Boy-Who-Lived has finally shown his true colors and has returned to save the school from a grave danger!"

Hasan bit his lip_, the Boy-Who-Lived? Albus couldn't possibly-_ but then it made sense, the twinkle in his eyes, the glee... he heard Neville stifle a gasp as the headmaster's gaze rested on him, all the way in the back corner.

"No need to be modest, Neville!" Albus cried. "It's okay to admit you went looking for a troll and had friends to support you."

_Oh, dear. The headmaster really was desperate wasn't he? _Hasan thought.

Hasan turned to watch Neville fully now, and it was clear that Neville wanted nothing more than to fall through the floor and quickly disintegrate. His eyes darted from Hermione, to Draco, to Hasan's, before quickly landing on the floor by his feet. Neville truly wished he could call these people his friends, but there was an unmistakable influence on his thoughts. The headmaster was guiding towards this way of thinking, and he knew he couldn't let it get ahold of him. These people, these wonderful people, they were not friends! They were just good people who went to help a pathetic boy...

"Albus!" Minerva snapped, glaring candidly at the headmaster. This succeeded in capturing Hasan's interest.

"It is alright, Minerva." Albus said, "These children, these friends of Neville's deserve to know." The first part seemed to appease the Transfigurations' teacher, and surprisingly the Potions Master. The second part, made Minerva want to slap his face off. "Yes, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Castell, this boy, this wonderful friend, is the Boy-Who-Lived."

Hermione's eyes became saucers as Draco gaped openly in a decidedly unMalfoylike fashion.

"Neville?" Hermione asked hopefully, "Really? You're Harry Potter?"

Albus cleared his throat. "Erm, no, but he is the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry Potter is actually just a regular homeschooled wizard. The press made a mistake."

Severus coughed loudly at this and Hermione looked as if she wanted to question the headmaster, but then thought better of it. Dumbledore was such a powerful wizard, he must know, right? He must be able to sense the sheer power radiating off of Neville Longbottom? Hermione fought the urge not to frown and demand to know what the hell _was _the truth. No offense to Neville or anything but,... Neville was currently backing up into the corner, arms wrapped protectively around himself. His eyes darted to Hasan for he seemed to be the only one not reacting, in a plea of 'help me _please!_'

"Then how come they wrote all those books on him?" Draco demanded, watching with suspicion as Severus' lips quirked up.

"Ah, yes. That was for Mr. Longbottom's protection." Albus lied easily. "Now I think for this miraculous accomplishment, 20 points each for Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Castell, and Miss Granger, and _30_ points for Mr. Longbottom for a great service to our school."

"Hey that's-!" Draco protested. The other two teachers looked about ready to shout the same thing too, but Albus silenced them with a shake of his head.

"Neville's heroics must be recognized! He was the first one here, was he not?"

_Damn him._

"Of course he was, sir." Hasan piped up to the incredulity of the rest of the room. His dull green eyes hit the headmaster head on, and he fancied he could see the man pause for just one second. "He was in here because-"

"I knew I could defeat the troll!" Neville shouted harshly. He hated himself for saying it, for playing into Dumbledore's machinations, but he couldn't bear for the teachers, least of all Snape, to know the real reason he was in there.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Albus said with a slight chuckle. "Now how about you go back to the feast? I hear the apple pie is simply delicious..."

The four children scampered from the room, though Draco's was more of a haughty strut, leaving the teachers to work out their own pressing matters.

"3o points for Longbottom! Really?" Snape sneered. "If you noticed, he was the one cowering in the corner!"

"Yes, I agree that 30 is a bit excessive. It was teamwork, Albus. Do you think special treatment is really the best way to handle the boy? He's much more likely to avoid you if you continue down this path."

"But don't you see? We introduce him little by little to the life he'll lead. Today's a troll, the next it's Voldemort!"

Snape gasped, "Albus, you didn't-!"

"No, no," Albus shook his head sadly. _But I wish I did. Perhaps in the Great Hall where everyone could have watched..._

.oOo.

"Hasan?" Draco asked when he realized the long, brown-haired boy was no longer with him.

"Just be a minute." Hasan called, indicating for Draco and Hermione to go on. Draco looked like he was about to protest, but then Hermione nudged him in the arm and he nodded tersely.

Hasan watched as Hermione tugged him away (though he quickly snatched his sleeve back) before turning back and catching Neville as he was walking towards Gryffindor Tower alone.

"Hey, Neville! Wait." Hasan shouted, striding over to the boy with long steps.

"Oh, not you too." Neville mumbled.

"What?"

"'Neville,' the headmaster just started calling me by my first name today. It's so uncomfortable. I wish he'd stop." Neville said in a whisper. "It's like he wants others to believe we're friends...wants me to believe we're friends. You probably don't understand..." Neville sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"He probably does." Hasan admitted to Neville's shock. "He wants something from you and needs your trust to make it happen. As for your name, would you rather I call you Longbottom?"

"Er, no." Neville said. "Sorry about that. No you can keep using Neville."

"Thank you." Hasan said quietly. The two sat down right there on the floor, side by side with their kneecaps touching. "I understand the power of names, too. Names are our identity. To some extent they make us who we are."

"Then it's just lucky I've got stuck with Longbottom, eh?" Neville laughed bitterly.

"You can't choose your last name." Hasan admonished lightly. "That belongs to your parents."

The word 'parents' seemed to strike a nerve, for Neville curled his arms around even tighter.

"Oh."

"Hey, Neville?" Hasan asked softly. "If you could choose any name in the world, what would it be?"

"I-er. I'm not sure. It's not like I can legally change my name without a guardian's consent, and Gran is sure as Merlin not giving hers."

"I was just curious." Hasan sighed. So far he had learned four things about Neville Longbottom and his related predicament. 1) Albus was playing a dangerous game. No one wants to be used, or hoodwinked, and this was exactly what he was doing. 2) Neville didn't like it one bit. Not the title or the headmaster. 3) Neville was tight-lipped about his parents, both of them. 4) He lived with a rather stubborn, strict, or opinionated grandmother. (Hasan wasn't sure which it was, but Neville's tone seemed to imply she was a strong woman.)

"That's alright. Curiosity is fine." Neville said. "Do you think You-Know-Who is really gone?" Neville asked suddenly.

Hasan knew what Altair thought, but he had yet to make his own opinion.

"Why?" Hasan countered, avoiding the question.

"Because I'm in deep trouble if he's not. Gran seems to think he's still here though, been trying to train me since I was little...but you know me. I can hardly turn a matchstick into a needle." Neville laughed bitterly at himself before turning watery eyes to Hasan. "Bet you don't think I can defeat him either."

Hasan shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I haven't met the guy. But I believe, the Boy-Who-Lived _or not_, that you have all the power you'll need. Maybe not in combat, maybe in Herbology. Who knows."

"Wait...you know?" Neville asked, eyes seeming to take up his entire face. Hasan knew he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived?

"I don't know anything." Hasan said with a slight smile. "But you may have to brush up on your acting skills to get Dumbledore from leading you along."

"I'll keep that in mind." Neville grinned as Hasan got up and offered him a hand. "And...thanks, you know. For listening."

"No need to thank me." Hasan said with a mock bow.

_But only because I can't shut my ears off._

* * *

**A/N-** _(I loved this chapter! As you can see, I've added some manipulative Dumbledore, but I'm trying to keep him "realistic" in the later portions of the story. This being said, Dumbledore should be shot for what he's putting Neville through! Also, in case it wasn't clear, Ron and Neville bonded in the Hospital wing from when they injured themselves in last chapter. __As to Draco, he made a quick enough recovery. I don't plan on anyone becoming so Moody that you dread reading about them. Therefore, last chapter will only serve as an explanation to his more independent way of thinking.)_

However, I do have a question for you all to help with the current chapter I've temporarily stopped writing. (Err, I meant in year 2, sorry for the confusion!)

**Can you please vote? **(I swear I read these and will go with the majority.)

**Who goes with Hasan into the Chamber of Secrets?**

**a) Solo!**

**b) Luna**

**c) Draco**

**d) Neville**

**e) Other, if you could specify? _**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**

Next Chapter: A Chat with Severus Snape


	7. A Chat with Severus Snape

**Author's Note:** A big thank you to everyone who's reviewed this story! I'm astounded, really, at all the feedback and love! This week was really difficult for me and I'm just so happy it's over...and Happy Halloween!

**Here are the results to last chapter's vote! Thanks to all of you who participated!**

**Luna- 11**

**Draco- 9**

**Neville- 6**

**Solo- 4**

**Ron- 1**

**I can only say that more than one person will be making an appearance o.O So without further ado...ENJOY!**

* * *

**Return of Emerald **

**Chapter 7: A Chat with Severus Snape**

"Are you sure that's what you saw?"

"Yes!" Draco and Ron cried in exasperation, then looked oddly at one another as if disbelieving they could ever agree. And by oddly, Draco was horrified, and Ron looked about to vomit.

"I'm just making sure!" Hermione defended herself. "Because I saw something of interest today too."

Hasan, Draco, Neville, Hermione, and Ron were seated around a table in the History section of the library. It was brilliant, for there were thousands of books, meaning many shelves, and no one liked History (because of Professor Binns) which meant many _empty _rows of shelves. Draco tolerated Hermione enough because she was so attached to Hasan, but Ron and Neville he could do without. Unfortunately, Hermione had made a little Gryffindor trio and that meant the Boy-Who-Lived and the Weasel had to come too.

What he did to get on Hasan's good side.

"I don't think you can top that, Hermione." Neville piped up. "That's pretty dark."

"Well, I'll just tell you then. Today, I saw Professor Quirrell limping away from the third floor corridor."

"Really?" Hasan asked. Quirrell seemed too weak to put himself into any danger. Either he was equally as stupid, or the alternative, hiding his potential.

"Must have been bitten by that dog Ron found." Neville muttered.

"What dog?!" Draco demanded, turning to glare at Neville. "You saw a dog in the third floor corridor?"

"Hence the detention with you." Ron rolled his eyes.

"Boys! Please, let's stay on topic." Hermione hissed. "So Ron, Draco, you guys saw a- a man, a hooded figure, in the forbidden forest drinking blood from a dead unicorn?"

They each shuddered and nodded. The tale was so gruesome that they rushed into the library before they would spill anything. It was miraculous really, how Ron and Draco could be equally concerned about something, so of course, Hasan took it very seriously.

"Wait...Unicorn blood, that's a highly magical substance that can sustain life even on the brink of death." Hasan whispered, repeating what Altair had taught him. "The consequences are...horrific, hellish. Whoever it was must be extremely desperate."

"Maybe they have a backup plan and are just using the blood to sustain them for a while." Hermione suggested. "But so near the school...you don't think..."

"Someone needs something from inside the school." Neville finished. "And that leads to-"

"The third floor corridor." Ron said. "Whoever that thing was that we saw needs something below that trapdoor."

The revelations were so farfetched, yet so perfectly correlated that they all just had to think silently for a minute. So far, a creepy figure was seen on Draco and Ron's detention drinking unicorn blood, Quirrell had been seen limping from the forbidden corridor, and Ron had stumbled upon a trapdoor that was guarded by a dog. Somehow these were all connected. Somehow...

"So basically, Quirrell is on the brink of death and needs something through that trapdoor to save his life." Hasan murmured, summing it all up.

"Wow, that's...brilliant." Hermione breathed. "It makes me think of that troll. You don't think Quirrell let it in, do you?"

"It certainly makes sense." Draco nodded. "He was the first one to know about it, and why wasn't he at the feast like all the other teachers? He could have easily let it in."

"But this is stuttering Quirrell, we're talking about!" Ron protested stubbornly. "He can't do anything!"

"Well, appearances can be deceiving." Neville told him lightly, "Maybe he's only pretending so that he raises less suspicion?"

There was a general agreement to this as Quirrell seemed abnormally pathetic.

"What we need to find out now is what's through that door that Quirrell needs so badly." Hermione said briskly. "I suggest we split up and start looking for substances that can extend one's life force."

"If only it were as simple as the Philosopher's Stone." Hasan laughed softly "...wait, what?"

"Hasan! You're a genius!" Hermione beamed.

"But isn't the stone supposed to be with the Flamel family?" Draco queried. "I'm hard pressed to believe they'd just give it over to Hogwarts."

"Yeah," Neville frowned, "But I'm sure if Dumbledore asked. He's got a lot of power, you know...They say Hogwarts is the safest place to hide things, except Gringott's that is, and well, Gran and A-albus don't seem to believe that Yo- V-v-volde-m-mort is gone."

Hasan frowned sympathetically, knowing how much pressure Neville was under from Dumbledore to say things a certain way.

"So you think Dumbledore set the stone as bait? That's cruel." Draco drawled. "But Dumbles was never known to think outside the Greater Good."

"Hey! Dumbledore is the best wizard ever!" Ron protested with a look of earnest.

Hermione sighed, "Quiet, Ronald, you can fight with Draco later. So let's just suppose, hypothetically that the stone is at Hogwarts. What are we supposed to do about it?"

"Stop Quirrell from getting it." Neville stated. "What if he's really a supporter of V-v- oh forget it, You-Know-Who? I certainly don't want to have him back!"

"Neville's right." Hasan spoke up, "No matter what the truth is, someone's after that stone and I think it's best if they should fail."

"Alright," Hermione said, a glint of determination in her eyes. She had become quite the little leader when it came to things on research, "look for books on three-headed dogs, also under Cerberus..."

.oOo.

While Neville's ring of friends didn't treat him any differently, mainly because Ron was already Neville's friend, and Hermione, Draco, and Hasan were suspicious from Dumbledore's actions from the troll incident and the month following, most of the school did a complete 180.

Some of the Slytherins backed off to better analyze the situation, while many of the Gryffindors strove to find favor in the so dubbed "Boy-Who-Lived." Neville's grades were even affected since kids offered to tutor him, teachers were more patient (save Snape), and people weren't laughing or doing things that made him uncomfortable during class and tests. All in all, one would think that his new celebrity status had completely improved his life. Even his Gran had decided to buy him a cat to replace the runaway toad. It was a beautiful tortoiseshell with bright amber eyes. He named her Victory. Hermione simply adored the cat and the name, and played with her often in the Gryffindor common room.

Neville wasn't the only one enjoying his familiar. Draco had recently taken to holing up in his room, doing Merlin knows what, with his owl, Zephyrus, or just plain Zeph. During this time, Hasan was off his 'befriending Draco' guard and could relax a bit around his housemates.

Tracey was a pleasure to be with really. Out of all the Slytherin girls, she was by far the gentlest. She often talked with Daphne Greengrass, a girl with black hair and black eyes, and Theo if he wasn't too occupied with Blaise Zabini. The odd thing about the girls was that they were all so very different. Not that Hasan was one to categorize or stereotype, but it was amazing how Tracey could be arguing with Pansy over blood purity one minute, and then unite to yell at some irritating Hufflepuff the next. Hasan found that this was a rather shrewd strategy employed to appear stronger than reality, and found the parallel between Harry and Hasan. It was all very fitting, and he couldn't even begin to imagine himself in with the Gryffindors!

Even though he saw potential in Hermione, Neville was just a pawn in Dumbledore's game. Though Neville didn't seem to want the attention, there was no doubt he was benefiting from it, and there might come a time in the future when Dumbledore asks a favor, and Neville would be in no position to refuse...So really, Neville was an associate (tool was too crude a word), which left Ron. He was relentless in defending moron-Gandalf at every turn, yet was blind to the obvious facts: Dumbledore knew someone dangerous was after the stone, and he had placed it in the building. As what? Bait? Putting thousands of lives in danger for what? A spectacle? Training?

Speaking of Dark Lords and Light Lords, Hasan had recently researched why he was sent to live with the Dursley's after the Dark Lord's supposed demise. Apparently there were things called blood-wards, but they only worked if Hasan considered the Dursely's family. Obviously he did not, making the wards null and void. What total idiocy! Honestly, if Dumbledore ever learned the truth, then Hasan was going to play the game. He wouldn't be helpless like Neville to comply, he'd be a Slytherin and a hidden king. But secrets were lonely.

Some nights he missed Tina, but knew she was safe enough with Altair. Other nights he missed Altair and knew he was safe enough with Tina. It was times like these that he would go up to the Owlery and bring Raven down to show Tracey and Daphne. Raven was always by herself it seemed. No one else wanted to be near her, and oddly, she seemed a bit miffed by the other owls...Hasan couldn't have been prouder.

.oOo.

"Aww! She's so cute!" Tracey gushed, holding Raven in the palms of her hands.

"I know! Hopefully you don't intend to send any heavy things with her." Daphne said. "Have you ever used her?"

Hasan blinked in confusion. Letters? Who did he have to send letters to? Altair wasn't going to receive any, and he wasn't about to start sending messages to Hermione or Neville from across the Great Hall. So then, why had Altair sent him the owl?

"Um."

"Don't you have any family?" Daphne enquired. "I've noticed you don't get much mail, sorry."

"No need to apologize." Hasan smiled charmingly. "I just like her is all. My father is working abroad right now, so I'm afraid this little one would get lost."

"What does your father do, Hasan?" Tracey queried. "If you don't mind me asking." She turned her sky blue eyes on him, eyes that had probably had older boys spilling their guts, but not Hasan.

"He travels and studies fighting styles and magical history."

"Oh, that's nice." Tracey said, though she seemed disappointed that he didn't have anything more interesting to say. She stroked Raven's feathers and giggled with Daphne. "She's just so cute!"

"Hey, what are you guys doing?" Blaise asked curiously. He was dressed in his midnight blue silk pajamas, which contrasted nicely to his darker skin. He had become fonder of Hasan in the past two months, slowly adapting to the concept of half-blood. Blaise wasn't half bad once you got to know him, but his mother had been obsessed with blood purity and had hammered it into her son's brain.

His mother had had five husbands so far, all mysteriously dead, and was currently in her sixth relationship. She only married the best, and she categorized it with blood purity. Which also mysteriously correlated with the amount of gold they had. However, Blaise had an open enough mind, especially since Draco started hanging around that mudblood Granger, and that blood-traitor, Weasley.

"Look! It's Hasan's owl, Raven!" Daphne squealed, kissing the bird on the head, then smoothing down its soft head feathers.

"That's...one small bird." Blaise stated after a minute. "I don't think I've seen that breed before. Ever, not even in the Owlery."

"That's odd," Hasan said absently, "I never use her so she should always be there."

"Yeah, his father's always travelling." Tracey interjected. "It would be too much work to make the poor owl fly across Europe!"

"Yeah, I guess so." Blaise said. "Speaking of owls, Draco's been in his room for _forever_! It's like he's sending someone a book!"

"Really? That's what you think he's doing in there?" Theo said as he came over. "I don't understand it. He doesn't get any personal letters over breakfast, but somehow ends up going in his room with one and sending a reply before we notice."

"Ooh, sounds like a mystery." Tracey smirked.

"No not really. I think he's just sending it to his dad." Theo said. "I saw the Malfoy family crest on one as he was stowing it in his robes."

"So you do _so_ know what he's doing, Theo!" Daphne accused playfully. "He's such a daddy's boy. _My father will hear about this_!" she mimicked through a fit of giggles.

Well, that was fairly obvious, Hasan thought. He's still reporting back to his father... Yet the thought was unsettling for he had actually come to appreciate Draco as part of his ring of friends. It just reminded Hasan that he should always be on his guard.

"_Pardonez-moi_," Hasan murmured, knowing that his French would make the girls melt, and thus leave him free to move as they gossiped.

He had to think things over. Just because Draco was playing the perfect friend, didn't mean he wasn't spying. Sure it was only December, but Hasan had hoped (though he denied it) to have changed Draco! Well, apparently a bit over two months wouldn't undo eleven years of Malfoy thinking.

He didn't know why the idea upset him. It just did. He knew that his emotions were just reactions caused by another's behavior, and that realistically, Draco was ever much the brat he had been in Diagon Alley. So then, why was he _feeling_ things? Why was he having these emotions?

He frowned as he wondered how it was that he knew one thing and thought another. His emotions didn't match up. Hasan didn't match up. For the love of Merlin, could he ever just be normal? Perhaps Mrs. Haydn was right...maybe he did have that mental condition.

He sat on his bed and sighed, remembering how just a few years ago, he was lucky to get the fullest hay-filled sack as a bed. He should be grateful, right? Not upset over some pureblood offspring. Urgh! Why did feelings have to get in the way of everything?

He looked at the little owl in his hands, wondering now with utmost suspicion why he was given an owl. The poor thing could hardly deliver a letter that was too heavy or too far away. Perhaps Altair meant for it to be something more personal? Like sending a live letter to someone in Hogwarts? Or a friend?

"Hey, Raven." Hasan smiled, stroking her soft black feathers. "I don't know why I'm talking to you. I've only ever talked to Tina, and I could actually understand her. Yeah, I'm a snake talker...but Altair doesn't really know that. I feel bad sometimes about deceiving him, but not bad enough. Sometimes I'm just sad because I'm not upset about being mean. It's all really complicated, sorry Raven."

The owl blinked at him with large black eyes.

"Yeah, you're an interesting owl. Really small too, no offense. Hey, do you think I could conjure a snake for me to talk to, not that you're not interesting...what? Yeah I suppose I'll be found out...urgh! I'm talking to a bloody owl!" With that, Hasan sent the bird outside with directions to fly back to the Owlery. Maybe Altair was more insightful than Hasan gave him credit for: he actually felt better.

.oOo.

"Hasan!" Draco commanded, rapping his knuckles on the boy's door, "Hasan!"

"What?" came the muffled reply after a minute of continual knocking.

"It's Christmas, hurry up!"

Hasan shot out of bed with an odd smile on his face. Christmas? Wait, presents? Hasan had never gotten to celebrate a proper Christmas since Altair was too paranoid to do much shopping apart from necessities, and his life before that had no room for any celebrations. Hasan figured that wasn't about to start changing now, but was also excited to see what everyone else was going to get. Hasan went to his trunk and pulled out a navy, fitted blazer, black shirt, and black pants. His long brown hair was braided neatly down his back, hanging just above his hip, since he had just trimmed it with a useful little spell he found.

"Hasan!" Draco demanded again, and Hasan walked readily out the dorm. "Has—oh, Merry Christmas, Hasan."

"Merry Christmas, Draco." Hasan smiled lightly, jade green eyes seemingly warm beneath his blank demeanor.

The two walked down to the common room together, where all the generations had gathered in seven separate little circles, presents grouped in the middle of each like a bonfire.

Draco led Hasan to where the rest of the first-year Slytherins were seated, apologizing with a wink why he had been late.

"Really? Who sleeps in during a holiday?" Tracey teased.

"Apparently I do." Hasan grinned, looking at the large pile of presents with curiosity. Theirs were easily the largest pile, but that was mostly because they had the most kids staying for the hols. Having a Malfoy in the mix did help too, however...

"Alright, let's start!" Blaise said, and the Slytherins were off! tearing shreds of silver and green wrapping off of parcels and boxes of every shape and size. The wrapping paper immediately vanished once it hit the ground, however, so that the cold marble floor was still spotless as ever.

Hasan watched as Draco received a set of golden scales from his godfather, Severus Snape, a pair of black gloves from his mother, and a snake pendant that was charmed to protect the wearer when sleeping. Draco got a bunch of other things too, among them a book on quidditch, and some hair gel... But he seemed to like the first three the most.

Daphne's gifts were mainly perfume and jewelry, plus a book on magical flowers and their natural uses. She seemed absolutely delighted and wore large smile.

Theo had gotten a bit less than Malfoy, some books on the Dark Arts, a scarf, and a bag of chocolate frogs from his parents. After opening the candy, he offered one to everybody in the group, and Hasan gratefully accepted, savoring the rich chocolate that melted sweetly on his tongue. Tracey unwrapped her gifts after Theo, for she was interested in what he got.

Tracey ended up receiving a small portable chest set, some jewelry, a light blue dress to match her eyes, and a mother-of-pearl enchanted comb.

Then they all looked to Hasan, who hadn't even started yet! He was shocked to find a small pile of presents for him.

"Well, go ahead." Draco said softly, as Hasan tentatively reached out for the first.

It was a book on Animagus transformations from Professor McGonagall. He was even touched she actually remembered his expression of faint interest over it! He set the book aside and started on the second. It was also a book, but from Neville.

_'Thank you for then.'_ he had written on a small red card. The book was about different ways to disguise oneself, including everything from spells to potions to wards. Hm, maybe this time he'd be able to figure out how to change back? Or at least know what was happening...

The next gift was from none other than Draco Malfoy. Hasan was startled that the blonde would actually care...but then he shoved it off as being some cursed artifact his father wanted him to have. Hasan opened it with caution, but soon had his mouth gaping in awe. Inside the velvet-lined box was an elegant silver dagger with three large emeralds on the handle.

"Draco...Thank you."

There were gasps around the circle as they gazed at the dagger in admiration. Blaise's eyes looked about to pop out of their sockets.

"You're welcome. It's a sign of alliance and friendship," Draco said, "A bit old fashioned, but I wanted to get you something unique...you can change the length of it with a single thought." he added as if Hasan would appreciate that more.

"Wow, that's serious coming from the Malfoy's." Theo whistled.

"Extremely. Hasan, you're one lucky bloke." Blaise commented.

"Yeah, almost unheard of." Daphne said.

"Thank you." Hasan told him again, placing the dagger in his sleeve, where he had a multi-holster which only held his wand as of yet. He'd have to ask Altair about it later, he decided, but right now...Hasan leaned over and gave Draco a hug, making him turn a vibrant scarlet. "Sorry I didn't get you anything." he whispered into his ear.

"Awww!" Tracey and Daphne cooed.

Finally, Hasan turned to the very last gift, silver with a green satin bow, and began to open it slowly. This was the best Christmas yet...

_'From Altair Castell'_ it said. Hasan smiled joyfully at the name, and found beneath the wrapping a case of the Lord of the Rings books, all paperback (because Hasan had a particular issue with hardbacks always closing on him), but with the covers adorned with little gemstones and the titles painted in gold.

"Merlin..."

"Whoa, Hasan, what is that?" Theo asked.

"Are they books?" Blaise wondered, "Spell books?"

"Muggle books?" Tracey tried, "Oh, yes! I've heard of them before!"

"Really?" Daphne asked, "You?"

"Yes! The author was ingenious really, even for a muggle. He imagined the entire world of Middle Earth-"

"Middle Earth?" Draco asked dubiously, "How-"

"It's a fiction book, Draco!" Tracey chastised, "Anyway, it's all about these halflings called hobbits and they go on adventures to destroy the one ring of power. You know, fighting dragons and getting treasure, and meeting kings and princesses!"

"It sounds good," Theo said tentatively. "For a muggle, I mean." he hastened to add.

"Yeah, Hasan, you'll enjoy it." Tracey said, "My father read them to me all the time."

Hasan grinned, "I've read them when I was eight."

"Merlin!" Tracey gasped, "That's...really good."

Draco was eyeing the muggle tomes apprehensively.

"Well, shall we go down to breakfast?" Draco suggested. It seemed he was uncomfortable with others knowing more than him, even on muggle literature.

"Of course, Draco," Hasan said liltingly, "I want to see what the Boy-Who-Lived has got."

At the collective wrinkling of noses, Hasan laughed softly, knowing that in reality, Neville probably thought the idea was even more distasteful.

Hasan was right.

.oOo.

"Who the bloody hell is Cho Chang?" Ron exclaimed over Neville's shoulder.

"I don't know, but I think the book looks fascinating." Hermione oohed at the Herbology text, flipping through its contents. Neville just shrugged helplessly at the large pile of gifts.

Most of the Gryffindors had gone home for the holidays, but not Neville, Ron, or Hermione: Hermione had too much reading to do in the library to go home, and Ron and Neville just wanted to be away from their crazy families. Neville was actually dreading the day he would have to go home for the summer hols. Gran was sure to smother him, and that would just be too weird since she never _ever_ 'smothered' someone, least of all 'nearly-a-squib-Neville.'

"I can't believe all of these...gifts! They don't even know me!"

"But Neville!" Ron screamed, "You're the Boy-Who-Lived! And recently out of hiding too! How you managed to fool them into thinking you can't do magic-!"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed.

"It's alright," Neville sighed, opening some candy assortment from Honeydukes, "I'd rather they think I could actually do magic than not. I'm only improving because everyone's been helping me so much." He sent a pointed look to Hermione, who grinned back at him.

"Neville, you just needed a bit of encouragement!...No, don't even compare me to that relative that threw you out the window!" Hermione said as Neville frowned.

Ron looked between them, wondering what he had missed. "Don't worry about it." Hermione whispered. "Oh, look at that! We missed some!"

They looked where the witch was pointing where indeed sat a little neat stack of presents. Neville groaned.

"Aw, cheer up, Nev! All I got was a Weasley sweater and a couple of chocolate frogs. Plus some quidditch book...hm, I actually did get a lot."

"Of course you did, Ronald." Hermione sighed playfully. "Alright, so what are they, Nev?"

"Erm, two are from Hasan for Hermione and me, and one is for me, but there's no name..."

Hermione glanced at the mystery gift but opted to open Hasan's first.

"Oh! Hair spells? They have these?" Hermione cried excitedly, finding a Witch's Guide to Manageable Hair by Catherine Coiffure.

"Yeah, my mum uses them all the time." Ron said thoughtfully. "They're really great...not that you need them or anything...or that I would know..."

"Alright, so what did you get Neville?"

"Er," Neville looked down at the vials in his hand, "They're labeled as Memory Enhancement Potions. And then, a book on disillusionment charms..." A soft smile settled on his face. Hasan really knew him, didn't he? He knew Neville didn't want this, that Neville wanted nothing more than to hide.

"And the unknown gift?" Ron pressed.

Neville reached for it with great trepidation, and carefully unwrapped the parcel. The paper fell away easily and disappeared as it made contact with the red carpet floor.

"Whoa..." Silver, shimmering fabric like water, draped over his hands and cascaded to the floor. But most of all, his hands had vanished beneath the cloak.

"Wicked!" Ron shouted, "That's an invisibility cloak!"

"My Gran said these were super rare." Neville breathed in awe. He swung the cloak around himself and gasped as his entire body disappeared. "I wonder who sent it..."

Just then, Hermione had spotted a little paper card that had fallen out when the cloak was unfurled. She snatched it up and read aloud, "_This cloak was destined for our savior. Your parents would want you to have it_..." Hermione looked up questioningly. "How odd. But you know...now we can look in the Restricted Section of the library!"

Ron slapped his head, "Is that all you can think about? He got an invisibility cloak, Hermione! Not a library pass!"

"What? Planning on pranking the Slytherins? They aren't that bad you know!"

"Well just because Hasan got you something!"

"What, so you're jealous?" Hermione screeched, "I can't believe you, Ronald! Come on Neville, let's got see if Hasan and Draco have gone down to breakfast yet."

.oOo.

Christmas day had been lovely, with snow falling gently to the ground, and warm fires crackling with lots of laughs between friends. Overall, the holidays were a happy time.

Not for Hasan Castell.

He couldn't recall a fully wonderful Christmas in his entire life! So it was, wrapped in his musings with his nose stuck in the _Return of the King_, that Hasan found himself pacing down to the dungeons. Draco had already taken up to whatever it was he was doing in his room, and the Gryffindors had already retired to their bedchambers. Hasan sighed, times like these, when he was alone, were both liberating and terrifying. He couldn't lie to himself. Alone he was Harry. Which was ludicrous really...

His little black boots crept silently over the cold dungeon floor, his breath coming out in little misty puffs. Then again, being alone was kind of nice, if only the universe didn't hate him: a shuffle to his left, some sort of breathing, a rustle of fabric on fabric...

"Mr. Castell." came Snape's silky voice. "What," he sneered, "Could a boy like yourself be doing wandering the dungeons at night..._Alone_?"

Hasan turned slowly, biting his lip with his book clutched to his chest.

"Professor Snape." Hasan breathed. "I was just...being alone."

Even for telling the truth, his answer sounded pretty pitiful.

"Indeed. And pray _what_, Mr. Castell, did you hope to achieve by _'being alone'_?" It was clear from his tone that he was suspicious, but that was really the best answer Hasan could give. He shivered slightly despite his little gray jacket, making Snape raise an eyebrow. "Well, come along then! Follow me."

He turned dramatically, robe billowing behind him before glancing back at the sill motionless child.

"Where are we going, sir?" Hasan asked shrewdly. He didn't really know Snape all too well, apart from potions where he mainly picked on Longbottom. As head of his house, Hasan could only hope (and dread) that this man was more intelligent and undervalued than the school believed.

"Must you always question the teacher?" Snape snapped. He paused for a moment, watching as Hasan's jade eyes seemed to examine the invisible options before him. "We're going to my office, Mr. Castell. Surely you would not refuse a warm mug of cider or hot chocolate?"

At his favorite drink, Hasan's eyes lit up. Severus smirked. Nothing like food to lure a lonely Slytherin. Snape led the way to the Potions classroom, then just beyond where the public entrance to his office lay, across from a portrait of Salazar Slytherin. Hasan had never ventured this far into the corridor before, for fear of having to answer questions why he was there. He could just imagine Draco telling his father of some unfathomable relationship between him and Professor Snape. Oh, the horror!

Which reminded him, Snape was Draco's godfather- so perhaps Snape was spying for Lucius too? Or perhaps Snape was spying on them both only for himself. Dealing with Slytherins always did make the variables prone to many different possibilities...

Snape opened the heavy wood door, set in heavy iron hinges, and indicated that Hasan enter with an impatient glare. Hasan had admittedly never been in the professor's office before. Many kids, like Ron Weasley, were in it far too often. Hasan wasn't sure if that was good or bad, for now, he was caught by surprise. The room was actually rather large, with a desk and two student chairs, and many shelves of books. The walls were not, indeed, Slytherin green, but a soft sage, similar to the dorms. The floor was a dark stained hardwood, and the only lights were a small iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

"Have a seat." Snape instructed, conjuring cushion on the hard backed chairs. He usually liked it when his vict- he meant, his _students_, were uncomfortable in his presence. Hasan, however, he wanted to know- which then meant, the boy had to be somewhat comfortable.

"Thank you, sir." Hasan said quietly, though he might not have said anything at all.

His face was blank, handsome, but blank, with average jade green eyes and pink lips. The boy also had long brown hair in a braid tossed over his left shoulder, and a stylish blazer, new boots, and neat shirt and pants. The only indication of his being slightly more mentally active (for he looked pretty statuesque) was the large tome he had placed heavily in his lap.

"Mr. Castell." Snape began, gracefully falling into his chair, "What would you like to drink?"

Hasan thought a moment. He'd like to drink a lot of things: apple juice, apple cider, pumpkin juice, peach smoothies, root beer floats, Shirley Temples, chocolate milk, hot chocolate, melted ice cream-

"Mr. Castell!" Snape snapped, "I haven't got all day. You clearly wanted something in the hall."

Oh, this man was so confusing! One minute he's asking about drinks, the next he's wondering Hasan's life desire! Honestly...how was that Slytherin? There were too many variables. Hasan could play coy and the man wouldn't even know!

Snape was staring at the boy in incredulity. The damn boy's face was blank! Blank! He remained motionless, unresponsive, yet...calm, not cowed, but very relaxed. What the hell? This was Altair-the-idiot-who-downed-several-lethal-potions -and-miraculously-did-not-die's child! What the bloody fucking hell?

Oh, goddammit.

"HASAN!" Snape thundered, snatching the book off the child's lap with ease. Well, if the boy wanted to play that game with the real Slytherin master, then Snape was more than willing to oblige. But you know what? The little cretin didn't even protest or scream or get up. He just stared Severus Snape right in the eye, looking all so innocent as his lips quivered. "How dare you just ignore me! I am your _Head of House_ and I demand respect! Now tell me what you want to drink right now or I'm confiscating this!"

Finally! A specific question!

"I'd like hot chocolate, professor...if, if you don't mind." Hasan said curiously. "Can I have my book back? It's muggle. It won't interest many."

Snape snapped his fingers and a steaming mug of hot chocolate appeared before Hasan. He glanced up at the greasy-haired man, and then back at the drink.

"Well? Is it not to your liking?" Snape sneered. "Been hanging around Longbottom enough for his arrogance to rub off on you?"

"I can have it?" Hasan asked, reaching out for the mug.

"Yes!" Snape growled in exasperation. What the hell was wrong with this kid? Hasan took a tentative whiff of the drink before deeming it clear of potions. Did the boy honestly think he would slip in a potion to drug him? Interrogate him?...And then it clicked: Hasan knew something that he didn't want Snape to know.

And Snape had a good idea of what it was.

"I can also conjure us some abominable biscuits if," he looked Hasan dead on, "if you tell me all you know about the third floor corridor." He knew it was a risk, but when wasn't it when it came to a Castell?

"I don't know anything, sir." Hasan said, though a flicker of recognition lit behind those dull orbs.

"I think you're lying." Snape hissed. "Now I suggest you tell the truth before I decide to use up the rest of my Veritaserum."

Hasan cocked his head. "May I have my book back?"

"No, you may not!" Snape snarled, "Now tell me everything you think you know of the third floor corridor."

It took him two tries every time, didn't it? Hasan thought in amusement.

"I've heard that Quirrell was limping away from the corridor. I've also heard that a three headed dog was guarding a trapdoor, leading to the Philosopher's Stone."

Snape's jaw would've hung open if not for his many years of spying.

"And, pray, how did you hear?" Snape asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I think you don't understand. Do you mean how did I come about this knowledge or how do sound waves travel?"

Now Severus was an intelligent man, not a lucky one, but an intelligent one, which basically made him the complete opposite of Altair Castell. Yet, even he had this peculiar feeling of staring something in the face and not being able to identify it. But even without having a proper classification, Severus also knew how to think on his feet.

"The former." Severus said as gently as he could.

"Oh, well you see, that's private. But I don't think it's too much to worry about since it's all just speculation anyway."

_Rather accurate speculation_, Snape mused. Well, it didn't matter anyway how the boy _came about_ this information, just that Hasan had it, and now Severus had the last piece to the puzzle: It was Quirrell. He had had his suspicions, but having a complete child piece this together gave him the confirmation he needed. And by Merlin, wasn't that just sad?

"I see. Well, drink up, and under no circumstances are you to go after that stone." Snape sighed, then summoned some hot tea and biscuits from the kitchens which appeared on his desk with a pop.

"Can I have my book back now?" Hasan pressed, unperturbed that he had just been forbidden to go on what would appear to be a lovely adventure.

Snape nodded, sliding the book back over the table. Lord of the Rings...thick for a children's book. Just then, a loud chime sounded off and Snape leapt up to get it. In seconds, Snape was back with a brown paper bag and he gave them to Hasan as well. This was all too familiar.

"It's you, isn't it?" Hasan asked, carefully unraveling the bag and taking out a vial.

"Give those to your father." Snape ordered, "Use your owl, she's keyed to his location." Snape seemed disgusted at this detail, but Hasan's mind was elsewhere.

"How do you know she's keyed?" Hasan asked, surely..."You use Raven."

"Altair gave me permission, I assumed you knew." Raven? What kind of imbecile named one's owl Raven?

Hasan stared at him in pure shock. How had he not known? From the comments of Raven's inconspicuousness, to the fact that Altair gave him an owl to actually use. Hasan knew why the second hadn't occurred to him: because it was idiocy to key anything to one's location, especially if you were in hiding.

"I didn't even know where he got the potions." Hasan confessed evenly, causing Snape to frown in disbelief. "Let alone that you used my owl or that my owl could send things to him! Wait...you know where he is. You're Draco's godfather. Does Lucius know? He's a follower of the Dark Lord!" Hasan was making so many revelations at once that he just had to drink his hot chocolate at the end of his speech.

"Mr. Cas- Hasan," Snape switched, startling the child, "Yes, I am Draco's godfather. Yes, I am good friends with Lucius Malfoy. But I am also loyal to whom I serve."

"I guess that's the question, then, isn't it?" Hasan challenged. "No, don't tell me. I'll learn eventually."

Snape blinked at this brash statement before continuing on with his reassurances. "I make this potion (he gestured) to help your father. He doesn't need them, but I make them anyway. Actually, he insisted that I shouldn't send him any more but I am because I wish to help him. Do you understand?"

"Then you lied, didn't you?" Hasan asked wryly, "My dad didn't give you permission to use Raven after all."

"That is neither here nor there." Snape leered. "As I was saying, Mr. Malfoy is a friend of mine, but nothing more. He certainly does _not _know Altair's location. Neither do I, really. He believes your father to be dead."

"And yet he told Draco to watch me. He's been writing reports to his father." Hasan said. "It's rather obvious."

Snape actually quirked a lip in amusement. Yes, he could see how Lucius junior would lack some grace and finesse that Lucius senior would possess.

"So Lucius does suspect." Severus whispered to himself. This was rather alarming indeed. If Lucius knew Severus had been helping a defector then Severus was royally screwed when the Dark Lord returned. Salazar, help him! Altair was going to be the death of him!

"Sir," Hasan asked, effectively breaking him from his reverie. "If Mr. Malfoy finds out, will it matter? Is there a Dark Lord to report to?"

Figures Altair's son wouldn't be an idiot!

"We believe, that is many of the staff members, that the Dark Lord has not truly been vanquished."

"I see." Hasan replied in a kind of sad way. He grabbed a biscuit, chewing off the top wearily before beginning presently, "Sir, what can you tell me about Animagi?" He seemed so interested and so on task despite the question being so completely random.

It was then that Snape realized what he was seeing. It made sense: the specific questions, the random questions, the stoic mood, the no mood, the blank face, the caution. This seriously socially-challenged son of Altair's was a genius, probably on the diagnosable scale...and Snape was now in charge of him! Oh dear Merlin!

And suddenly, the next six years just got a whole lot longer.

* * *

**A/N-**

_(I wanted to explain a little bit about Asperger's, but please keep in mind that I'm not an expert by any means. Here's a website that's probably more accurate than me just for reference ;) (just remove the spaces)_

_www . aspergers aspcrit. html_

_Well, people are people no matter what, and to be honest, everyone has some sort of diagnosable thing, so it's really only a matter of whether you are aware of it or not. Asperger's is on the Autism spectrum, though it is "high functioning," which basically means we might be intelligent in one area and really lacking in another (like socializing). Also, there is a list of characteristics that can be "mixed and matched" so to speak, so there isn't one mold- and there are exceptions to everything._

___So I guess the point of this is...learning about Asperger's through the media doesn't give the whole picture. (Not that my note here does either.) Enjoy Hasan, but don't think he's truly representative of the "condition.")_

**Hello! Thanks for all the reviews! I'm spending the weekend with family, so, trapped entertaining my little cousins, I could use some reviews to brighten my day! Also, this week has been Hellish, I'm just so relieved it's over, so please!**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

Next Chapter: The Mirror and The Stone (We are nearing the end of Book One!)


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